Another Side, Another Story
by Another Side
Summary: When Sora's story ends in Twilight Town, a new story begins -- the story of a boy, with two keyblades and a brand-new heart. An in-progress what-if fanfic of epic proportions.
1. Day 1: Part 1

**Day 1:** **In Which There Is A Thief**

* * *

He had never met the boy in his dreams.

Lately Roxas had been having extremely vivid dreams, dreams so real it almost felt like he was living them more than imagining them, so he was quite certain about that. It was like he was seeing the dreams as a passive observer, inside someone else's body, someone else's head, _trapped_.

The dream filled him, and filled him, until his eyes snapped open.

Roxas raised a hand slowly to his forehead, nursing his aching head. He was disoriented, feeling almost like his skin had been stretched out... as if he hadn't woken up as much as reached the maximum amount of dreaming he could stand, and then simply rejected sleep.

Maybe he was coming down with something, he thought, and peered at the clock beside his bed.

"_Roxas!_"

His eyes widened at the sound of that voice, and he leaned in the other direction, pushing open the window. "Hey!" Roxas called, and then the orange sky caught his eye -- crap, it was already mid-afternoon. "Sorry-- I overslept!"

No wonder he felt so lousy, if he'd slept this long, Roxas told himself.

Far below on the ground, Hayner put his hands on his hips and smirked up at him. Pence waved from behind him, calling up, "Well, hurry! It's summer vacation -- we've got a lot of really important nothing to do!"

"_Pence!_" Olette said, sounding scandalized. "What about our homework?"

Hayner scowled at them both. "Make it fast, Roxas," he said direly.

In an effort to outrace homework, Roxas hopped out of bed and took a rushed shower, then thundered down the stairs and out of the house. No doubt his parents were already at work, no point in telling them where he was going -- he'd probably be back before they got home anyway.

"Hey-- sorry," he said breathlessly as he caught up with them, and took a punch to the shoulder for his trouble.

"You'd better be," was all Hayner said, and then turned to lead the way to the Usual Spot.

"Don't mind him," Olette said softly, glancing sidelong at Roxas. "He's been upset since yesterday."

Pence grunted. "You can't blame him, you'd think people around here were going to arrest us or something."

The blond tilted his head back thoughtfully, mostly ignoring Pence's usual exaggeration, and hastened his steps to fall in beside Hayner. "Wasn't yesterday your sister's -- thing?"

"Her recital?" Hayner's jaw tightened. "Yeah."

Hayner hated those stupid events he had to attend. Roxas said sympathetically, "I bet it was really boring, huh?"

"I wouldn't _know_. They didn't let me in!"

Roxas paused in his tracks, startled, and then laughed, trying to make a joke out of it. "You don't look nearly as happy as I'd have thought you'd be if that happened! What's wrong?"

The taller boy stomped his way up the street, not responding to the friendly teasing. "I guess they thought I might -- I don't know -- _set fire_ to the audience hall or something."

"Oh, come on. You're not psychotic, just a little excitable." Although privately, Roxas thought Hayner looked about ready to burst into flames, so that might not surprise him at all.

Hayner was red with anger and the glare he turned on Roxas said as plainly as any words that this was _deadly serious_. "Yeah, well, thanks to _Seifer_ and his gang--"

"Don't say that, we don't know that Seifer has anything to do with it!" Olette protested.

"With what?" Roxas asked dubiously, more to the other two than Hayner, who was clearly 'excitable' right now.

Pence sighed, and said, "Well, Hayner thinks--"

"It's the only explanation!!"

"--that Seifer's the one who spread that rumor about us."

"There's a rumor about us?" Roxas echoed, even though he was starting to sound like a broken record.

Hayner stared at him, the anger momentarily robbed from him. Even Olette and Pence looked surprised.

"...Roxas," the brunette girl said faintly, "you really haven't noticed?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Noticed what?" he said sheepishly, and ducked away from Hayner's attempt to clobber him.

"GAAAH, come on!! Our _reputation_ is on the line! Pay attention!!"

Roxas had no idea what he'd missed that was so obvious to everyone else, but he held out his hands apologetically. "Sorry! I've been kind of busy trying to get some errands done, and -- stuff." _Sleeping_. He'd been getting so tired lately, and oversleeping every morning. "I'm out of the loop, help me out. What are we talking about? Be specific."

The three of them exchanged a look, and then Olette said gamely, "Well, lately, someone's been stealing the (( . . . . . . )) from the town--"

"What?" Pence said, wide-eyed.

Roxas was nodding, and it took Pence's question before he realized what was missing. He blinked, and frowned at Olette.

She looked as confused as any of them. "...(( . . . . . . )). You know--" She lifted her hands, holding her thumbs and forefingers at angles to indicate the approximate size and shape. "_(( . . . . . . ))_."

Hayner snapped, "Are you making fun of me?!"

Yeah, right; Olette? Roxas gave him a withering look and asked her, "You mean, (( . . . . . . )), right?"

It happened again, just silence where the word that he'd spoken should've been. Roxas put a hand to his throat, fascinated in spite of himself -- almost more fascinated than surprised.

"This is stupid," Hayner said firmly, and stomped his foot sullenly. "_(( . . . . . . ))_." He tugged on his hair in disbelief, his eyes huge. "_(( . . . . . . ))!!_ What the-- I can't say it!"

"It's like not just the (( . . . . . . )) were stolen... but the _word_ (( . . . . . . )), too," Pence said, marveling, and his expression turned crafty. "_What_ kind of thief could steal a _word_, I wonder..."

Roxas grimaced and cut him off. Not more talk about UFOs. "This wasn't happening earlier, was it?"

"No, this is-- this is new," Olette said, bewildered. "We could say -- it, just fine, earlier!"

Knowing Hayner, he'd probably been ranting all morning, so she would've noticed, too. Roxas frowned, glancing down at his feet.

"I bet it's a _curse_," Pence whispered.

Roxas's lips quirked up in spite of himself. He didn't usually humor Pence, but-- "Who would steal a bunch of (( . . . . . . )) and then curse the word?"

"Ghosts? Maybe one was killed in a freak accident with _darkroom chemicals_--"

"You mean Seifer's blaming us for ghosts?!" If anything, Hayner only looked more annoyed.

"Wait," Roxas said before he could stop himself, "Seifer's _what_?"

Hayner turns around quickly and grabs Roxas by the front of his shirt, hauling him in and shaking him. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?!"

"H, Hayner!"

But Roxas only flinched a little and raised his hands in futile self-defense. "I'm listening!" he protested. "But you're not _talking_, you're just kind of -- flailing."

Hayner's jaw dropped, and he gave Roxas another, smaller shake. "I don't _flail!_"

Roxas laughed and batted his hands away, clapping the taller boy on the shoulder in wordless consolation. All the same, he thought he'd ask someone more coherent for their opinion, and he glanced at Pence and Olette with a smile.

Olette was smiling too. "Like I was saying, someone has been stealing (( . . . . . . )) from around town--"

"A _ghost_ has been stealing--"

"Thanks, Pence," she said, and went on quickly, "We don't know why, but it certainly seems like everyone thinks -- well, they think we did it."

Roxas frowned. "But why would they think we did it?"

"If aliens were involved--"

Hayner charged right in, talking over Pence's explanation as to why ghosts and aliens might be collaborating. "What do you mean, why?! Isn't it obvious? Seifer and his gang have it in for us, who else would spread a rumor like that?!"

Olette said mildly, "I just think it's too soon to say it's Seifer..."

"We're _victims_," Hayner said, obviously no more inclined to listen to her nonsense than Pence's. "The thief stole _our_ (( . . . . . . )) too, and last time I checked, being stolen from? Kinda eliminated you from the suspect pool! Come on, let's go get him -- we can take him!!"

Olette started to disagree again, but Hayner was visibly psyching himself up, punching the air viciously, maybe imagining Seifer's face there. She gave Roxas a quick glance, somewhere between pained and hopeful.

_Here we go again_, Roxas thought, sighing. "Or, we could find out who really did it -- that way, everyone would have to admit it wasn't us. Right?"

Hayner paused, and relaxed. It kind of looked like he was deflating. "...well, we could do that too," he muttered.

Roxas put a hand on his shoulder. "Seifer will look like a total jackass in front of the whole town if we do."

That approach worked much better, and Hayner cheered up a bit, looking at him. "...you think?"

"Definitely," Roxas agreed, and took in Pence's obvious approval and Olette's grateful smile. That seemed like a better prospect all around.

He wasn't sure how much good it would do, though. Seifer couldn't _really_ have stolen a _word_ -- he was tough, and he was definitely enough of a jerk to steal things, but a word wasn't something you could just pluck off a desk. And could they really track down a thief so subtle as to not only steal a word, but to frame Hayner and his friends for it?

But now that his attention had been called to it, people _had_ been acting unusually cold to him lately.

Olette fell in beside Roxas, smiling still. "Thanks, Roxas."

It took him a moment to tune back in, and then he slowed his own pace and offered her a small smile in return. "He'd run wild if we let him," he said sympathetically. He was used to being the mitigating influence, tempering Hayner's recklessness; Olette got tired of looking like the villain all the time, and Hayner was usually more responsive to Roxas's tactics.

"Wild is an exaggeration!" she said, exasperated in her own amused way, still grinning. "I'm sure he'd only... flunk out of school, spraypaint his name all over town..."

Roxas laughed. "He still comes pretty close. But I bet we'd _all_ flunk out." He might do homework on his own, if he got really bored and had nothing better to do, but he'd definitely never try and get Pence and Hayner to do _their_ work.

"Don't sell yourself short-- I think you'd be fine," the brunette assured him.

Roxas rubbed his fingers with his thumb, still smiling to himself. "I don't know -- I think I might never do anything without you guys. Probably just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling."

It was true, and he didn't think there was anything exceptionally odd about saying so. Roxas didn't notice the way Olette's good-natured expression slipped, replaced for just a few moments with worry.


	2. Day 1: Part 2

**Day 1: ****In Which Boys Are Boys**

* * *

Despite Roxas's big hopes for their fact-finding mission, it seemed like the shopkeeps who had been victimized had as little information as Hayner did. They didn't know who had stolen their possessions, they didn't have any evidence, they didn't have any clue about motivation -- except, their silent stares said, that which pointed to Roxas and his friends. For reasons no one would explain to them, everyone seemed to consider them the obvious suspects.

The armor shop merchant said crossly, "Seifer was right about you kids. You'll stoop to anything, huh?" and closed the shutter on them.

Seifer was with his gang when Roxas found them: Fuu pointed wordlessly at the new arrivals, and Seifer turned around to greet them with an all too familiar smug smirk on his face. Roxas tightened his jaw automatically. It felt like he'd seen that smirk a thousand times -- like there was nothing in the world more pressing than wiping it off his face. And it felt like that every time.

"_You!_" Hayner snarled.

"The one and only," Seifer drawled. "Are you kids done playing robbers already?"

"Us?! Why, you--"

Roxas grabbed Hayner's arm when the taller boy would have charged at Seifer. "You're not helping," he hissed under his breath. "Calm down a little."

Hayner bit the inside of his cheek, acknowledging the point without really letting go of his agitation in the slightest. "...whatever," he muttered.

Seifer's smirk only hitched higher. "Well, well. I guess we can see who the mastermind here is." He ignored Hayner, pointedly looking past him to Roxas, and he asked, "So, tell us, Roxas. Why'd you do it?" His amused expression didn't make him seem very eager to get his question answered.

"Roxas _didn't,_ you--"

Olette piped up from behind the boys, asking reasonably, "What makes you so sure it was us?"

Seifer lost some of his smugness, expression hardening a little. "Who else would steal that (( . . . . . . ))? Just tell us where you hid it."

It was hard to keep cool in front of Seifer, despite the soothing words he'd mustered for Hayner. Roxas clenched his teeth and snapped, "I didn't hide anything from you! Why would I care about your stupid (( . . . . . . ))?"

Rai braced his hands on his hips and retorted, "You can't fool Seifer like that, ya know!" with Fuu on his heels, stating firmly, "DEFINITE MOTIVATION."

"_What_ motivation?" Olette demanded,

"You guys telling everyone lies about us, maybe?!"

Seifer continued to ignore Hayner, not even deigning to listen to him despite his sneered question. The older boy only talked around him at Roxas. "But who'd tell lies when the truth is so much more convenient?" He lifted his chin, almost daring him. "You had to resort to thievery-- We couldn't settle this like _men_."

Roxas was getting really tired of being singled out on Seifer's ridiculous crusade. "I'm _totally_ capable of settling anything between you and me."

As if she'd been waiting for him to say something like that, Fuu immediately kicked a struggle bat in his direction, her blank expression never wavering. "REPLAY."

Hayner's hands clench convulsively into fists, clenched so tight that they were almost shaking as he broke away from glaring at the trio to give Roxas a grim nod. "Yeah-- go for it!"

Roxas glanced at Seifer's gang, not liking the way they were all grinning at one another, smug as if they'd already run. Rai caught his gaze and puffed himself up, drawling, "You're in for it now. Seifer's been buffing up for the tournament, ya know!"

"Roxas has been training, too!" Pence said stubbornly, giving Roxas an expectant look. The blonde couldn't quite muster the confidence that his friend was probably hoping to see -- he'd almost forgotten about the tournament until just this moment, he certainly hadn't been practicing.

But he wasn't going to let Seifer beat him.

Not ever. Especially not now, when their reputation was on the line, and in some small way, beating Seifer was like proving by right of arms that they weren't the thieves.

That he wasn't useless--  
That he was alive.

"It won't matter how hard he's been training," Seifer said, resting his own bat on his shoulder and smirking. "We both know what's going to happen."

Roxas didn't say anything to him, didn't give away his half-formed thoughts with words. He kicked at the bat, knocking it into the air the same way he'd kick up a skateboard, and snatched it by the hilt nimbly without every breaking eye contact with the taller boy. His glare would say everything he wanted to say.

He really had no idea how Seifer managed to bother him so much -- it almost felt unnatural.

"Kick his ass, Roxas," Hayner said, and something inside Roxas tightened, hot and intent.

Seifer almost swaggered into place across from him, holding his struggle bat casually in one hand. He raised it to point straight at roxas, challenging. Roxas waited for him to draw back into a ready posture before lunging -- they'd fought before, he remembered well that Seifer never made the first move, never. The first swing had to be his, even if that guaranteed that it would never hit.

Sure enough, Seifer leapt back, smirking, and swooped back down eagerly with the bat poised to strike. Roxas rolled back and seized the moment instead, swinging the bat into Seifer's midriff. He grinned broadly as the older boy's breath hisses briefly from between his teeth, hearing his friends already cheering a little from the side, but the padded bat probably didn't even sting Seifer. It only took him a beat to stagger and recover, lashing out and catching Roxas on the shoulder before he'd quite recovered from the swing.

_Ow, fuck!_ That definitely hurt, Seifer's superior strength almost numbing his arm for a moment. Roxas managed to lift his bat to block the next blow.

"Isn't _this_ romantic?" Seifer jeered.

"_Shut up!_" Roxas heard Hayner howl.

Seifer lunged at him again, a broad overhand swing, and Roxas blocked again and then ducked, swinging his bat at Seifer's legs and bringing the taller boy hard to the ground. In a heartbeat Seifer had rolled and spun himself to his feet, glaring, but Roxas hardly even noticed.

He wasn't uncertain anymore -- something instinctive had taken over, muscle memory driving him in for a series of quick, sudden blows, one after the other. From the right, the left, the right, gaining speed as he sank into the motion, forcing Seifer back. Roxas could recognize (not from his face, but from his posture, the tension in his frame and his grip) the exact moment when Seifer realized that he was losing, Roxas's momentum overwhelming him.

The next moment he misstepped, and Roxas's bat caught him square on the side of the head, the impact vibrating with _satisfying_ force through Roxas's arm. He smirked triumphantly as Seifer staggered back and then fell back, landing hard on his back.

There was a beat, and then suddenly cries of "_Yeah!_" and "Way to go, Roxas!" came from behind him, bringing Roxas back to the lot with almost startling suddenness. He straightened, rubbing the side of his neck.

Fuu raced up to them, ducking down and getting an arm around Seifer's shoulder; Rai sputtered, "Se, Seifer's been wearing himself out with all that practicing!"

"Yeah _right_," Hayner scoffed, clapping a hand on Roxas's shoulder and grinning from ear to ear.

"Why don't we capture this moment for posterity," Pence said with satisfaction, hurrying alongside them and pulling out his camera. "Smile, Roxas!"

Hayner was smiling more than enough, beaming like he'd won a prize, and Roxas mustered a smaller smile himself. He felt sort of disoriented, but -- well, probably it was just oversleeping catching up with him.

The camera clicked, and its insides churned loudly, but before Pence could turn it around, a strange silvery creature slithered around him and snatched the camera from his hands. Pence let out a startled yelp, fumbling for it, but the creature whisked away and fled, wriggling out of the Sandlot.

Startled, Roxas cried, "Hey!"

Still dizzy, Seifer looked up at Roxas reflexively, and then followed his gaze, frowning. Pence was staring at his hands, brow furrowed. "What..."

"It's the thief!" It made perfect sense -- or whatever kind of sense it made. Roxas darted off after the silver thing quickly, feet pounding on the pavement and carrying him farther from his friends.

"Roxas!" he heard Olette call after him, and then murmuring, "Where is he going?"


	3. Day 1: Part 3

**Day 1: ****In Which ****(( . . . . . . )) Are Returned**

* * *

Nothing seemed strange when Roxas was running through the town, the rush and the adrenaline and the pounding of his sneakers against the pavement carrying him on until the silver thing slid through the crack in the wall of the tram common. He hesitated just for a beat before plunging through after the thief, rushing out into the forest with his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his throat. But as the shadowy canopy closed in around him, cutting him off from the bustle of the town, Roxas started to feel -- almost surreal.

He was chasing a thief  
out into the forest  
near the haunted mansion  
and although his friends had been there, they weren't following.

Questions flooded him now that his footsteps were muffled by the grass and damp earth. Could the thief possibly be human? Why was he so quick to follow it? Why had it stolen not only physical items, but words? _How?_

The thief came up short in front of the gates to the mansion, and shivered around to face Roxas. His uncertainty deepened as he slowed and stopped, staring at it. "Creature" was a better word -- there was no way it could be human. It stood erect on two skinny legs and swayed in place, boneless undulations of its long silver arms in a way that no human could possibly mimic. Its fingers were long and clawlike, bound together over the heel of its hands, and its head was eerily angular, with a long zipper over the mouth.

The -- the creature slithered forward eerily and Roxas took a step back for each sly step forward.

**We have come for you, my liege.**

Roxas sucked in a breath and staggered back again -- that eerie, asexual voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, come directly inside his head, strangely reverent and horrifyingly familiar. He stared numbly as the creature slid towards him again, this time not trying to back away until it pulled close.

Its mouth unzippered slowly and pulled open. Fascinated almost to the point of forgetting what kind of nightmare this creature must have walked out of, Roxas just watched. For a mesmerized moment he found himself thinking, _There's something inside, like maybe there's a person in there, or, or something LIKE a person,_ and then it hit him like a brick: _Oh -- oh god, this is fucked up._

He scrambled away quicker, his fingers clenching and unclenching. A weapon -- he needed one, he didn't have one -- he glanced around quickly and spotted a butterfly net half buried under a bush. Hayner had brought it one time, he remembered, thinking he might catch the ghost (and Pence had encouraged him and only Olette's good sense had kept them all from hunting the undead like fireflies)...

It was long and it was sturdy enough, so Roxas made a dash for it, snatching up the pole between both his hands and trying not to feel ridiculous as he turned, net dangling in front of his face, to watch the strange creature advance slowly.

He took a step back and collided into something. Roxas stumbled away, already murmuring an apology as he turned and saw -- another of the creatures, with a third behind it. Panic took control quickly and he swung wildly with the bat at the one he'd run into.

It passed right through the silver monster.

Roxas gaped at it. Maybe it was a little flimsier than he'd like, he'd take a Struggle bat any day, but -- _intangible_?

They rushed him together, and Roxas yelped and swung again, with no more success. A creature twined around one of his feet and then yanked, sending him crashing to his back on the grass, and then they seemed to swirl in and meld together, stretching up eerie thin limbs to form almost a cage around him.

Roxas got reoriented quickly and scrambled upright, clinging to the butterfly net. "_Let me out!_" he shouted, grabbing one of the 'bars' to shake the creature loose -- but although he could touch them, their boneless, seemingly fluid flesh was cool and solid beneath his hands, like steel. Even when he braced his shoulder against it and pushed, it didn't give an inch. He'd have better luck prying his way out of a real cage, one made of metal. At least metal he could use the net against.

"Let go--" He was starting to hyperventilate some, wide-eyed and desperate, but even in his frantic state Roxas stopped abruptly short as the air before them rippled, and darkness -- pure black, pure darkness -- started welling up out of the air, almost like a tall, thin portal suddenly appearing before them.

The silver creatures maintained their odd cage around him, but lifted themselves up and shifted closer to the portal.

Roxas felt the panic ebb away, replaced with sick certainty -- this was wrong, this couldn't be right, he was going to -- to maybe die, and he'd never seen his friends again, and they'd never know what had happened to him, never know about the thief that wasn't...

His fingers clenched about the pole, and then he _heard_ it, a sound like a camera about to go off, followed immediately by a digital flash that almost blinded him. When Roxas lowered his fingers from in front of his face, he could see numbers spiraling around the net -- see it suddenly shimmer and vanish, replaced by a giant key in his confident grasp.

_I've seen this key before,_ Roxas realized. _It's from my dreams._

Startled as well, perhaps, the creatures paused, and one twined back around, almost folding in on itself to peer between silver-limb bars at him. Roxas gritted his teeth and swung straight down for its head.

It made contact -- rough, jolting contact. The creature gave a thin shriek and disappeared, and the cage fell apart as if it were made of string.

_Real!_ he thought, almost giddy, even though he'd been sure it would work this time. Roxas rolled to his feet and then swung back around to face them, holding the key (keyblade) in front of him warily. The creatures didn't seem how to react to this either, the two survivors milling about uncertainly from a short distance and waiting. One of them shuddered convulsively and then almost flung itself at Roxas, eerily reluctant as if it had been shoved by an unseen hand.

Just like Seifer, just like Struggle at the sandlot -- he could almost hear Seifer's catchphrase ringing in his ears -- Roxas struck hard and fast.

The creature popped like a balloon, and Roxas flinched back from the sound. When he recovered, the final creature was already gone, and the air was filled with fluttering photographs, spiraling down to earth like confetti.

* * *

The most surreal experience of all was coming back to a grand fanfare of nothing.

"You guys-- you didn't see it?" Roxas said pleadingly.

Pence frowned, his brow furrowed, but for once he didn't have anything to say -- no talk about alien invaders, not once while listening to Roxas's story or now that it was finished. "No, Roxas," he said. "I just dropped the camera, and you took off like a bat out of hell. I thought you'd gotten a clue and solved the mystery, like a detective or something." He was clearly not as pleased with the obvious explanation now, that Roxas was crazy.

Roxas wasn't happy with it either.

_How could they not have seen?  
They were right there!_

"Well," Olette said, a little brighter than she should have needed to be. "The photos are back, and the word photo is back, so. All's well that ends well!"

"Except that we didn't catch the _thief_," Hayner said, scowling. He was clearly not so happy.

They were just going to pretend he hadn't said anything about a silver monster. Roxas rubbed the back of his neck.

Pence ducked his head, shuffling through the photographs and clearly trying as hard as they were to take his mind off the story. "Roxas, you sure are in a lot of these pictures," he said. "Like -- all of them."

"What?"

Everyone leaned over his shoulder, watching as he presented them one by one. His expression was turning crafty. "It's kind of suspicious, don't you think? And some of these -- when were they even taken? It's like someone's been following you around... waiting in the shadows... watching everything..."

Pence could always be relied upon to make him feel stable, at least. Roxas gave him a strange look. "Uh, well, as far as 'when' goes... This one was taken because I was the first customer at the new accessory shop. This one when I won second place at the race during our class picnic, and..." He scowled at a picture of Seifer gloating visibly, above Roxas, who was on his hands and knees shaking off dizziness. "And this one is probably why Seifer thought I took them." He pointed Hayner at it.

Hayner scowled, snatching it out of a disappointed Pence's grip. "Let's tear it up," he suggested darkly.

Olette reached out, distressed, and pushed Hayner's hand back down. "Then Seifer will tell the whole town, and we'll look like jerks again! Let him have his stupid picture."

Hayner scowled, but Roxas was still looking at the photos. He asked slowly, "We had -- other pictures, right? Pictures I'm not in."

"Huh? Yeah," Pence said, nodding.

"...where are they?"

"Still in the drawer," Hayner said, folding his arms over his chest. He made an aggravated sound. "Come on! We better start returning those things. I still say we drop Seifer's into the trash..."

Roxas lingered a little, staring at the pictures of _him_ that had been stolen from everyone in the town.


	4. Interlude I: Him

**Interlude I: Him**

* * *

"Well, fortunately, it won't be long now."

The man shifted, lifting his face just enough to see DiZ from beneath the hood of his black coat. Although the room was dark, the scant light from the computer screens illuminated DiZ where he sat in front of them, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"The photographs bought us some time," DiZ added, pleased.

Maybe they had, but they didn't make sense. Usually DiZ was not one to answer questions in a satisfactory manner -- and usually, DiZ's answers were not ones that his companion enjoyed hearing -- but curiosity compelled the man in black to ask him anyway. "I still don't understand," he said, his voice dark and deep to his own ears. "Why didn't they just go after the real thing to begin with?"

DiZ laughed at him, soft chuckling in the velvet darkness. "What 'real thing'?" he said, mocking. "But it's all just data to creatures with that level of awareness."

"...if you say so." The man in black didn't pretend to understand the way DiZ's program worked, the way there were Dusks inside the computer, the silver ebb and flow of numbers that made up what felt like a real world. Where he came from, computers were few and far between, arcane things only found in libraries or laboratories, and the man in black preferred fishing to reading.

"Now-- if you're finished with asking foolish questions," DiZ said, brushing off the topic with no further care as to whether or not the man in black had understood his answer. Computers were _his_ specialty. "There is still the matter of the redheaded man."

The redheaded man--? The man in black tensed slightly, invisibly in the darkness of the room and beneath the darkness of his coat. "...All right. What about him?"

DiZ tilted his head back, watching the monitors that revealed the blond boy, unconscious on the floor of the place where he gathered with his friends; the unwary observer might think that the monitors were frozen or paused, but it was that world which was paused. "Those of Organization XIII will stop at nothing to see Roxas returned to their fold. This interference is only the first, have no doubt. Of course, as long as he remains within the town, there is little that pest can do to interfere. But nevertheless -- keep your wits about you. Do not let it out of your sight."

"Why don't you get rid of him?" Namine's clear voice cut through the room like a knife. The man in black turned to see her: she was standing by another display, so pale that she caught at the light, seeming to glow as if the only thing in the room untouched by darkness.

_Ironic,_ thought the man, although he wasn't so sure that it was.

"...Pardon?" DiZ said, his voice very calm, but very still. Dangerous.

"Why don't you get rid of him?" she asked again, and turned to look past the man at DiZ. "You say that he's no threat, but -- isn't it safer to not have him here at all?"

"Attempting to do so would be a waste of time and effort."

DiZ always sounded like that, when he spoke to her, taut and brusque; the man in black had often observed, in the last months, that everything about her set DiZ on edge, every action she took and every question she voiced. Namine did not seem to respond to it, and that, too, set DiZ on edge. It was not exactly conducive to a friendly environment.

"I see," Namine murmured. "So the difference really is that insignificant." She turned back to the monitor. "I suppose people like us were never meant to change things after all."

DiZ's lips quirked up, a cruel expression visible in the computer's light, for just a moment before resuming their former even keel. "Indeed."

The man in black could not bring himself to speak to DiZ, to look at him any longer, but something he had tried to cast away long ago stirred when he watched Namine's melancholy resignation. He drew closer to her, and lowered his voice to keep DiZ from overhearing. "Don't talk about yourself that way," he murmured.

"Well, it's true." She lifted her head, looking straight at him (not at his hood, not even past his hood) and smiling a little. "What could be more fitting, for someone who was never meant to exist?"

"Exactly," DiZ contributed with satisfaction.

The man in black tensed, hands hidden in the loose sleeves of his coat balling into fists. He said nothing, but for a moment -- as he sometimes did -- he resented DiZ's presence, his casual cruelty, his nonchalant acceptance of the dilemma that left the man in black so torn and indecisive.

He just didn't know what was right. He only barely knew what he wanted.

"He won't be able to make Roxas remember, anyway," Namine said softly, still watching the screen. Roxas was a crumpled figure, so helpless and small on the monitors. "They never do -- not really."

Not without her help, anyway.

"Right," the man in black said, toneless, and then turned quickly. "Do you-- Are you hungry? It's past lunchtime." Any excuse to get out of this room.

"I could do with a bite to eat, I suppose," DiZ allowed, without looking away from his monitors.

"Then I'll take care of that," the man in black said, stepping towards the door. He paused for a moment, hovering on the verge of going outside, and finally added, "...And you?"

Namine hesitated, then turned to him and smiled again, less sad this time. "Sure," she said agreeably.

"Bring that to the White Room," DiZ said, distastefully, as if the White Room was not a place where anyone would voluntarily venture. "It is time for Namine to show him some more of her _dreams_."

"...yes," Namine agreed softly. "It's getting late, after all."

The man in black lingered a beat longer with nothing to say, and then turned to head up the stairs.

"Thank you," she called after him as he left, "Riku."


	5. Day 2: Part 1

**Day 2: ****In Which They Almost Go to the Beach**

* * *

His sleep was uneasy, riddled with dreams of darkness and strangers. When Roxas's eyes snapped open they still felt heavy, as if he were struggling to keep himself awake instead of just waking from sound sleep, but it was impossible to close them again -- there was a taut, painful pressure at the front of his mind. Roxas rolled over and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to shake it off.

It was afternoon already, he realized when he managed to look up. Again. He _really_ had to stop staying up so late.

Although, Roxas mused to himself as he got up to shower, he couldn't remember why he'd been up -- or when he'd gone to bed-- He couldn't even remember leaving the Usual Spot last night.

He hurried through his chores and then swung out the door, heading out to find his friends before they got into something exciting and left him behind. The streets were quiet and empty, and the only sounds were his sneakers on the pavement -- just like yesterday.

Roxas still couldn't believe that his friends hadn't seen the picture thief yesterday. It only made it the more aggravating that they hadn't followed him; they couldn't _possibly_ have missed seeing it, and seeing for themselves that it -- _they_ weren't human.

But since they hadn't, there was no proof, nothing at all. Not even of the keyblade that had destroyed two of them so easily.

If he had that... Roxas glanced around furtively, making sure that the back alley was still empty, and then ducked to snatch up a stick from the side of the street. He gave it a wide swing, like he was practicing for Struggle, measuringly. _Come on--!_

But nothing happened. He frowned and swung again, again, and then outright scowled at the treacherous stick. With an irritated sigh, he tossed the stick back over his shoulder and started again for the Usual Spot, but the stick made a soft sound, colliding with something definitely not made of stone.

Roxas whipped around, his eyes widening, and sure enough there was a man there -- a tall man in a black hooded coat. He'd never seen anyone like that around Twilight Town before, but instinctively he started to stammer, "Oh, I'm-- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--"

The figure remained still for a moment, staring first at Roxas and then at the stick that must have struck him. Without saying a word, or even appearing to hear Roxas's apology, the tall man just turned and left for the sandlot.

_...crap._ Roxas rubbed his fingers, turning the white and black bands around and around with nervous compulsiveness.

That hadn't helped mitigate the surreal dissociation he'd had since last night.

Fortunately, the moment he stepped into the Usual Spot he was hailed enthusiastically by his friends, bringing an unconscious warm smile to his lips, and effectively banishing that feeling of being out of place. Of course _this_ was his place. It was their place.

"Oversleeping again?" Hayner drawled.

Roxas threw himself onto the couch and stretched his arms and legs. "Doing chores, for your information," he said, which was partially the truth. "But now everything I have to do today is _done_."

"Huh," said the taller boy, successfully distracted. "Well, we don't have much in the way of plans, but-- _hey_! We could go to the _beach_."

_There goes Hayner again,_ Roxas thought, kicking up his feet and already resigning himself. Hayner had had worse ideas -- at least the beach was nearby, safe, and fun. Roxas imagined himself already in that warm, baking heat...

Olette protested, "But what about our homework? We haven't even started it!"

"Whatever," Hayner said dismissively. "We can do it when we get back! It's not _summer_ without a trip to the beach."

"_Hayner!_

He shifted gears abruptly, looking pitiful and unhappy. "You wouldn't really make us _miss out_ on the beach this summer, right?"

"Well--"

"Come on, Olette," Pence said, agreeable. "You've got to admit, the beach would be pretty nice today. Which will we remember more fondly when we're older -- having a fun day playing at the beach, or slaving over our homework?"

"Th, that's not fair!" Olette said weakly, and she turned to Roxas with a pleading look.

Pence added, "We could search for alien treasure on the beach."

Roxas tilted his head back, musing. _Sorry, Olette,_ he thought. "The beach sounds great, but... how will we get there? I don't really have any munny." He rubbed his finger bands again awkwardly.

"What?! Didn't your parents give you spending munny for summer vacation?!" Hayner sounded scandalized.

"Well, of course they did, but I bought this--" Roxas frowned. "Well, I bought this Moai tissue dispenser, see...?" He raised his arms to show the shape of it in the air. "The tissues come out of its nose, and... And, it was 3,000 munny."

In retrospect, that seemed like a pretty stupid financial decision. He couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd felt compelled to buy that -- or even when he'd last seen it around the house. Roxas scratched his head. Why in the world had he thought that was cool?

After a beat, Hayner echoed, "You bought a-- what?"

"A tissue dispenser!" Olette said, standing up for him stubbornly despite how nearly indefensible the bizarre purchase was. "You know, for -- for when you have a cold, or something."

"See, now aliens are _definitely_ involved here," Pence said, smirking. Roxas tossed an abandoned ice cream wrapper at his head.

Hayner leapt up and put his hands on his hips. "Okay, Roxas is an idiot, we know. But what about the _beach_?"

He stared straight at Olette until she folded her arms sullenly. "If you want to pay for his ticket, fine, then we'll go," she said.

"_Yes_!" Hayner crowed, pumping his fist in the air, and then pausing a beat. "Well, I can't cover his ticket -- I don't even have enough to pay for mine."

"And I kinda bought this spy kit," Pence added sheepishly.

"Oh, _Pence_!" Olette said, exasperated. "Not the one in the back of the comic book!"

At least he wasn't the only one who made bad judgment calls, Roxas thought, and he slanted a private grin at Pence. The brunet was laughing guiltily, but winked at him when Olette wasn't looking. That made Roxas wonder if he was actually sharing in the moment of feeling stupid, or if Pence was just defending him his own way.

"So no one has any munny," Hayner mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Then all at once he brightened and grinned like a madman, jabbing a thumb at his chest. "I got it! Just leave it to me!"

"Is it ever a good idea to leave something to you?" Roxas asked dryly, pushing himself upright.

"What are you talking about, it's a great idea! Just follow me..."

* * *

Roxas was the last to arrive at the train station later that afternoon, although he was traveling fast enough -- swaying nimbly on his skateboard to bring it to a halt in front of his friends. He dug in his pockets for the munny he'd earned, and his friends held up their own portions.

"My mailman's salary," he said cheerfully as Olette gathered up their respective earnings.

"They even paid Hayner," she said, amused, as she collected them in her munny pouch. "Even though he just threw up all the posters on one wall."

"I fixed it!" he said indignantly.

Pence admitted, "This was actually a pretty good idea. I was expecting to spend the day constructing rocket-powered skateboards to skip out on paying for train fare, or... or rooting through people's garbage in the hopes that someone had accidentally thrown out four train passes. That sort of thing."

Hayner scowled at him. "No watermelon for you," he said direly.

"We can't afford watermelon for anyone," Olette corrected. "We made 5,000 munny -- that's enough for everyone's tickets, and for pretzels!" She handed the munny pouch to Roxas. It was practically too big to fit in her cupped hands, so he kicked the skateboard away and tied it into his belt loop.

Excited and probably impatient from waiting for him, the others raced to the train station ahead of him. Roxas started to run after them, but he tripped over something, stumbled once and then crashed to the ground, hitting his chin and clacking his teeth together painfully.

"_Ow,_" he muttered, "crap." He shook his ringing head and glanced back, to see--

A stick? That hadn't been there a second ago, he was sure of it -- he just kicked the skateboard past there. Roxas turned over to stare at it, and he had just a heartbeat to catch a glimpse of the man in the black coat out of the corner of his eye, just a heartbeat to suck in a surprised breath before the man seized his arm in a painful grip and hauled him to his feet.

"Hey--!"

"Do you feel Sora?" the man whispered harshly into his ear.

Roxas wanted to demand who the hell he thought he was, who gave him the right to _touch_ him, but that question snapped him out of that uncharacteristic train of thought. He knew that name. It was _his_ name-- the boy from his dream-- he _knew that name_.

"What?" he whispered.

"_Roxas!_"

Roxas's head jerked up, and he found Hayner and the others waiting for him in front of the train station.

"Come on!" Pence said urgently. "We're gonna miss the train!"

The figure in black was gone already when Roxas turned around. He stared at the open space until Hayner ran up and grabbed him by the elbow, then hauled him into the station. "Roxas, the munny, we need the munny," he said, impatient and sticking a hand into Roxas's pants pocket to search.

Roxas put up with a lot of inappropriateness from Hayner, but that was just too far; he batted the offending hand away and frowned at him. But the munny wasn't where he'd tied it -- wasn't in any of his pockets -- he patted himself down quickly and looked up, frantic. "It's gone, it's just--" He darted around Hayner to scan the area where he fell, but there was nothing. "That _guy_ must've taken it!"

"Guy?" Hayner echoed, coming up behind him to help him look. "...There was no _guy_." Roxas spun around to give him a glare for being difficult, but Hayner was looking at him, not at the courtyard, and his expression was -- confused. Maybe wary. The look was echoed on Olette and Pence's faces.

"You fell, Roxas," Olette said, almost a whisper. "No one was anywhere near you."

_Again?_ Roxas thought numbly.

The train's whistle went off, fading into the distance without them.


	6. Day 3: Part 1

**Day 3: ****In Which the Heart is Rather Fallen Into**

* * *

Dim sunlight streamed through the window of Roxas's bedroom in Twilight Town, greeting him as he woke suddenly, sucking in a deep breath that almost caught in his throat and strangled him. He panted, short of air, as if he'd been running all night, and shook his head to clear it -- crap, crap, crap.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten home yesterday again, but he was more worried about Hayner. His friend had been upset yesterday when they'd parted, and... And Hayner could be a pain in the ass when he was upset.

Roxas was just heading into the back alley when he found Olette and Pence heading down the street in the opposite direction.

"Hayner started without me?" Roxas said, making a little joke of it. But that question was more important than it sounded. Hayner _never_ started without him. He was Hayner's _best friend_.

"We wanted to surprise you," Pence said avidly. "And you were making us wait so long to share the good news!"

"News?"

Olette elbowed Pence a little. "We _were_ going to surprise you, anyway," she said, giving Pence a look. He grinned at her, having the good grace to look abashed. "But, since you already practically know... We got the munny! We can go to the beach!"

A brief flare of hope lit in Roxas's chest; he exclaimed, "Really?! That's-- that's great! How? Did someone turn in the wallet?"

"Well, no," Pence admitted, glancing sideways at Olette. "Hayner's uncle agreed to lend us the munny."

"Oh-- well, that's still great news." Roxas had been hoping that maybe someone had caught the man in the black coat, could prove that he wasn't crazy, but that seemed like too much to ask for. "So, you guys were getting ready?"

Olette nodded. "We were just going to get you."

What, did they really need to go so early as to wake him up during the summer? Summers were for sleeping in! Roxas grinned at her a little. "I would've gotten there eventually."

Pence exchanged an amused glance with Olette. "Well, unless you want to camp out at the beach overnight, we should probably go before the last train," he pointed out.

"What?" Roxas laughed. "It's not that late, come on."

They paused. Olette said, "It's two in the afternoon, Roxas."

Now he was really confused; Roxas could tell that it was late by the color of the sky, the position of the sun, but-- Really? That late? But he'd gone to bed early, so tired from all that skateboarding and the stress of the day...

At least, he was pretty sure he would've gone to bed early.

"I, I just woke up," Roxas confessed.

"Maybe you're coming down with something," Olette murmured.

Maybe, Roxas thought, although he wasn't worried about his health -- if anything, he was more worried about the toll the dreams were taking on his health. But how could he tell them about the dreams when they already thought he was seeing things?

Pence said firmly, "As long as he comes down with it _after_ the beach."

"Pence!"

"What?! Hayner is already in his swim trunks and snorkeling gear, he'll kill us if we ditch now," the brunet boy pointed out, turning to lead the way up to the train station. Olette didn't immediately start to follow.

Roxas rubbed the bands over his fingers, saying, "I'm not offended, Olette, he's righ-- What's up?"

Olette didn't respond, and when he took a closer look, Roxas saw that her expression was frozen in place, her arms and legs unmoving. One foot was poised above the pavement, like she'd suddenly lost all momentum. Pence was much the same, exasperated smile still etched onto his round features. Neither of them were blinking, breathing, anything.

It felt like _Roxas_ had stopped breathing, even his own heart stilling in shock and confusion. "Guys?" he said hesitantly, reaching out to touch Pence's shoulder and maybe shake him a little.

Roxas heard footsteps behind him, soft sounds, and he whipped around to find a stranger -- a slim, pale girl -- making her way down the cobblestone hill on thick sandals. She smiled faintly at Roxas as she saw him watching her.

Roxas didn't feel like smiling back. He took a few steps away as she approached, nervous. The stillness in the air was just like yesterday, when he'd met the man in black in this same corner of the street. "What's going on?"

Without missing a beat, the girl said lightly, "Hello, Roxas."

_How did she know his name?_

She glided right past him, her gaze lingering on his expression for only a beat as she passed by. "You should come visit me at the mansion."

Roxas turned around to watch her, wide-eyed and lost, his chest tight with confusion. Instead of a more insightful comment or question, he wound up blurting out, "Who _are_ you?"

"...someone from the dark." Although her words were soft and thoughtful, she never stopped moving. She seemed unwilling to waver even a step in her course. "If you want to know what's happening to you, then come to the mansion. All the answers you seek are there."

It was a beat before Roxas really understood that she was walking away, _leaving_ with only that vague promise. Everything else he'd thought was so sure -- things he could see and touch and hear -- had just vanished when he turned his back on it, so why should he believe that that promise would mean anything the moment she was out of sight? "Wait!" he said impatiently. "Tell me!"

"I will," the girl said, imperturbable. "When you find me."

She turned the corner and passed out of sight; Roxas frowned and tried to follow her but Olette and Pence got in his way, Olette laughing and Pence grinning.

"I guess you're right," Olette was saying. Roxas had no earthly idea what she was talking about, couldn't really think about her; the stranger was _just_ around the corner and he could still catch up with her, still get his answers if he tried, so after a hesitant beat Roxas darted around them and raced for the sandlot himself.

He heard Olette and Pence call out behind him, but if he could just find that girl--

When he rounded the corner, he couldn't find any trace of her, and she wasn't in the sandlot, either: it was empty except for Seifer's gang, loitering by the bench where Seifer was lifting weights. The older boy glanced up alertly as Roxas entered the sandlot, and offered a smirk. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Seifer taunted. "Not running away already, are you?"

He'd have seen her if she came through, right? Roxas jogged up to them. "Did you guys see a blonde girl in a white dress go by here?"

"No one's been by other than you," Seifer said, not moving other than the rhythmic flexing of his arm. "And you don't seem to be wearing a dress-- at least, not right now."

How he managed to be so agitating even when Roxas was _this_ distracted... Roxas couldn't leave without responding to that, but behind Seifer's gang, in the mouth of the alley, one of the silver creatures stood, staring straight at him and swaying silently in place.

_Shit, not now!_ Roxas looked around quickly. His gaze landed on a Struggle bat at Seifer's feet, and he lunged for it.

"BEWARE!"

"Yo, Seifer--!"

Seifer didn't need their warnings, already leaping back, dropping the barbell in his haste. Fuu put herself in Roxas's path, forcing him to veer around her. Roxas snarled, "You all need to get out of here!"

"You think you're gonna take Seifer like this?!" Rai demanded belligerently, but Seifer was watching Roxas with narrowed eyes and frowning. He was the first to turn around and see what Roxas had seen, and then he backed up without taking his eyes off them.

"What the hell are those?" Seifer snarled.

_Oh thank god,_ Roxas thought for a moment, _finally I'm not the only one who sees them!_ There were more of them now, eight silvery creatures stepsliding into the sandlot with very deliberate intent. Roxas licked his lips and lifted the Struggle bat.

Fuu snatched it out of his hands. "CHALLENGERS," she announced, and tossed it to Seifer.

"Oh, come on, Fuu!" Roxas snapped, but the girl only gave him such a withering look that he gave up. There was a pile of Struggle bats against the far wall, and he jumped over the bench to grab two, one in each hand, and then -- wait, two? why had he gone for two? -- he dropped one again and turned to locate the silver creatures. They were still making their way across the sandlot, and three of them peeled off in a synchronized motion to head for Seifer, Fuu, and Rai instead. The other five headed for Roxas, not missing a beat.

_Crap. Five, isn't that a little overkill, considering I can't hit them?!_ Roxas gritted his teeth and waited for one to lunge for him, then took a quick hard swing, hoping to at least drive it back if not actually make contact. His bat passed through the silver creature without resistance, pausing it in its advance only for a moment.

Seifer and Fuu were having no better luck than he was, back-to-back and visibly frustrated. Seifer's lips were curled up in a silent snarl. "What the _fuck_ are they?" he demanded of no one in particular.

"Hey-- Hey, Seifer," Rai complained, swinging wildly at the sleek creature facing him. It swayed in place, not even bothering to duck as the tall boy's fists went clear through it. "Why can't I hit these carnival guys?"

"_Carnival guys_?" Seifer repeated with disbelief, and then turned around and threw his useless bat at Rai's head.

"Ow!" Rai yelped, rubbing his head. The creature Rai had been fighting slid up to the bat and picked it up, turning it over in bound hands as if curious about it.

This wasn't good at all. Roxas clenched his teeth and shook his bat, hoping half-heartedly that the keyblade would mysteriously appear. Seifer's gang didn't have as many opponents as he did, but the creatures were clearly just _toying_ with them, mocking them, while their companions circled Roxas like predatory sharks, watching and-- waiting.

Suddenly he had the wild thought that maybe they were waiting for the keyblade to appear, just like he was.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised; Roxas spun on his heel just in time to see one of the creatures lunging at him from behind. He raised the bat, too late to protect himself, too overbalanced to even stay standing, but he didn't land on his back-- he just kept falling

and falling

and falling into endless darkness, turning in midair like a cat righting itself until he could see down, see the black all around him. The sandlot, the silver creatures, Seifer's gang -- they'd all vanished, with no sign of them anywhere.

No sign of anything, right up until the moment he landed rather unexpectedly on his feet.

The darkened platform beneath his sneakers lit suddenly: He was on a circular platform decorated with colored glass. The image depicted on the platform was masterful, an intricate mosaic with careful detail work on the borders and in the evocation of tropical islands in the background. In the center of the mosaic was the arching figure of a brunet youth, curling in around four portraits.

Roxas took a step back, a bit nervously backing away from the image. He recognized that youth, recognized his face.

"Sora," he whispered.

The air shivered, like the wings of a dove, but there was nothing -- no movement, no life. It was a surreal sensation of tension, similar to being watched, only...

_This is a crossroads._

As if summoned by the thought, three pillars suddenly lit up, with a shield, a staff, and a sword mounted on the top of each one. The sword was the closest, the brightest, drew his eye. Roxas knew that this was his invitation to make a choice, and he was too numb, too driven by instinct to care if there was some sort of trap in his choices. He reached out to take the sword in his hand tentatively, and gave it a practice swing.

The weight was so familiar.

_The sword represents strength, but the sword can hurt those you love, too._

Roxas hesitated a moment, turning the blade over in his hands and studying its cool edge. No -- no, he knew how to wield a sword properly.

Didn't he?

The sword glowed briefly, and then flared all at once, a searing pulse of white light that transformed the sword -- when Roxas looked at it again, he was holding the keyblade, and for a moment wild relief seized him. _You were the right choice after all._

Then, with inexorable slowness, the darkness closed in around him, drowning out the light that shone on the staff and the shield -- the choices that he hadn't made. Instead, a light fell upon a single white archway, closed doors painted over the black emptiness all around the mosaic platform.

_Be careful._

But Roxas didn't know what else he could do but approach the door; it was the only way to get off of this platform. Beyond the door...

_Beyond that door lies a completely different world. But don't be afraid._

_Don't stop walking..._

_You want to see what lies beyond the door, don't you?_ thought the other voice in his mind.

Roxas set his hand on the doorknob and turned.


	7. Day 3: Part 2

**Day 3: ****In Which Roxas Meets and Loses His Heart**

* * *

Roxas paused against the edge of the platform, hovering for a quiet moment in the black nothingness all around him. Behind the door had been only another platform, and beyond the platform had been a staircase leading to another platform; something (the inexplicable hope that maybe one of these stained glass mosaics wouldn't depict Sora) kept Roxas going, upward and upward. But each staircase only led to another shade of Sora, and each platform only illuminated yet another staircase. And each staircase, each platform, was riddled with hidden enemies, the same silver creatures that had plagued him for the last few days.

It felt like he had been climbing these stairs for hours, fighting off monsters every step of the way. The keyblade should've been heavy in his hand. He should've been shaking with exhaustion.

Roxas lifted his head and eyed the door across from him. He hadn't seen a door since coming into this seemingly endless spiral of stairs and platforms, what felt like so long ago.

He wasn't tired at all.

_It's natural. This place isn't the real world. You don't get tired the way you would there. And the door is so close..._

Roxas's feet were moving before he even knew it, quickening his pace to rush across the mosaic. He was almost there. Finally something was about to change. He was _so close_...

"Don't be Sora," he whispered as he put his hand on the doorknob.

_...hey._

He entered the new room with some trepidation, the only sound his sneakers squeaking on the stained glass floor and his own heartbeat in his ears, but hesitance quickly gave way to indignation. The door only opened up onto another platform with no doors, no stairs: only Roxas, and blackness, and the same cruel pattern -- Sora again, darker in color, twilight evoked by the stained glass panels.

It was ridiculous to be angry. No one had told him that there would be anything special beyond the door, only that whispering certainty in the back of his mind, but he still felt betrayed -- manipulated.

Yes, manipulated was a good word. And he was so sick of being manipulated.

He strode out into the center of the platform and looked around, scowling, almost daring something to happen. Answering his challenge, something flickered in the corner of his eye; Roxas whirled around, keyblade at the ready, but he caught only a hint of something dark, what might have been a figure vanishing into the black surroundings. Eyes narrowed, Roxas kept himself ready, and realized with alarm that the door he had come through was gone.

As he watched, something large and white spilled up from beneath the platform, curling around the mosaic almost like fingers... Roxas regretted the thought the moment he had it, because the fingers levered up the rest of the creature -- vast, enormous, looming above him like the buildings of . It resembled, in a way, the silvery creatures that he had fought on his way up, in the way that a grown dinosaur might resemble its newborn counterpart -- so much stronger-looking, so much more vicious, so _immense_.

It was reaching for him with its other hand, twisted and boneless and undulating.

Something snapped into place, so natural and so strong that Roxas hardly even noticed until he was lunging for the monster fearlessly, raising his keyblade high to strike the creature's hand away. Suddenly nothing seemed to faze him; he was filled with a cool detachment, and pain and shock seemed miles away -- when stinging white-and-black energy bound him high in the air, he tested his restraints and used the give to strike the unwary creature, and when the creature knocked the platform swinging and sent Roxas plummeting through the air, he righted himself with a cat's instinct and hurled the keyblade straight at the monster, sending both of them crashing hard to a platform far below.

Despite himself, that landing knocked the sense out of Roxas for a heartbeat. When he felt like he had control of his limbs again, he pushed himself awkwardly to his feet, still dazed, and found the keyblade had landed beside him. The sight of it returned his determination, and his features set. Roxas grabbed the keyblade and darted across the floor for the stunned monster, laying into its head ruthlessly with a flurry of blows. When the creature finally straightened, it spat more of the black-and-white energy at him, more self-defense than offense this time, but Roxas knew, he _knew_ how to twist the energy passing beneath him, how he could use it to propel himself up, and up, closer to the monster's face to strike again, hard.

When he heard its silent cry ringing between his ears, he knew he had won. Roxas landed on his feet again lightly, a cool smile twisting his lips up as the creature reeled away from him, shuddering and shaking in its death throes. _That's what you get,_ he thought, or maybe that was him thinking, _Yeah, I got it! Finally!_

He glanced up at it with a frown and realized suddenly that it was about to fall again -- right on top of him. He brought the keyblade up quickly in self-defense, but it vanished right out of his hand... and with it his last shred of whatever control he'd held over this situation, whatever surreal calm he'd possessed up until now, as quickly as if it had never existed at all.

Roxas gaped at his empty hand, then at the rapidly-descending monster. "Sh, shit--" He scrambled back, but too late -- the creature hit the platform and exploded into smoke directly above him.

_No,_ Roxas realized. It was too thick to be smoke, and when it rushed out to envelope Roxas it was like ice numbing his skin

(no not the ice not like this)

"Come on!" he cried, struggling against swirling darkness that seemed to be dragging him down against his own sudden swell of panic. He was reaching out, but he couldn't find purchase. _The keyblade will come,_ whispered the voice in his head. _This has happened before, and the darkness couldn't take you. The keyblade will... Wait... It isn't coming? But why...?_

Roxas took a deep breath and held it tightly as his head sank into the frigid vapor, held it for as long as he could, praying for something. But he never expected a small, cool hand to take his, tugging him gently as if to lead him down a sunlit path, and only that somehow managed to chase all the darkness away.

All at once he could breathe again, and he sat up sharply -- he was lying on a white marble floor. The whole room was white, almost oppressively so, but he was grateful to be able to see at all after all that emptiness. When he finally focused enough to look around, his eyes caught on the only spot of color in the room.

It was _her_, the girl from before: in her simple white dress and with her slight little smile, perched on the edge of a dais with her hands knotted in her lap, as if she'd been waiting for him all this time.

_Kairi?_

"Who?" Roxas said, numb.

"My name is Namine," said the girl serenely.

_Namine._ He shook his head, trying to clear it, and it took a moment before he realized that she'd answered his question. Roxas seized on that desperately, demanding, "What's been going on? What's all this about?! Tell me!"

"It's not about _what_, Roxas," she murmured. "It's about _who_." Namine watched him for a moment, and then added, more gently, as if the words might hurt him, "Do you remember your true name?"

He was so goddamn tired of feeling lost. Roxas's hands curled into fists at his side, and he echoed, "My true name-- What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Namine leaned forward, her fingers curling tighter, so that they looked white against her pale skin. "Think about it, Roxas," she urged. "There can only be one answer."

Behind her there came a sharp swell of darkness, almost out of nowhere and man-height in less than a heartbeat. A figure in a black robe strode through and caught Namine by her arm, pulling her to her feet and twisting just enough to wrench a small, distressed sound from her. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

A reflexive protest -- 'you can't treat girls like that' as much as 'hey I want her to answer me' -- caught in Roxas's throat when the man spoke. Wait just a damn second, he knew that voice. "_Hey!_ You're the guy who stole Olette's wallet!" Roxas's jaw tightened: now he was pissed off.

The dark figure turned to stare at Roxas from deep beneath his hood -- nothing was visible of his face -- and then suddenly released Namine, who staggered back and curled her arms around herself, watching. She didn't do anything as the man in black approached Roxas.

_Who... Who is he...?_

_Who cares?!_

With almost casual, astonishing strength, the man in the black coat lifted him by the collar of his shirt and tossing him through the portal while he was still trying to _wish_ the keyblade into his hand with nothing for his troubles but frustration.

Roxas stirred vaguely, aware of lying prone again, and this time -- ugh, there was dirt in his mouth. He spat it out and rolled to his hands and knees dizzily. Damnit-- _Damnit._ Where was he now?

A sudden snap alerted him, and he glanced up to see Fuu with a camera, waving a photograph to dry it.

"C'mon, Seifer, strike another pose-- Aww, he's waking up," Rai said from behind her, crestfallen.

_She took a picture of me, while I was unconscious? What the?_

"What the hell are you doing," Roxas demanded flatly.

_Are these my friends?_

Seifer turned to him with a smirk. "We figured, after you brought those freaky things here and got us all agitated... You owed us a little something." He passed Fuu's picture to Roxas.

The picture showed Seifer flexing over his unconscious body. _Are you kidding me--_ His hand clenched around it and he scowled. If they wanted it back, they'd have to pry it from his cold dead hand.

Seifer only shrugged. "Keep it. We've got more." He headed back to the bench.

_...No. Do I have friends?_

Roxas bristled defensively, although why he -- wasn't quite sure. He couldn't shake the feeling he was missing out on a conversation with someone. Instead, he asked Seifer, "What happened to the monsters?"

"Monsters?" Rai burst out laughing. "You've got some imagination, y'know?"

"Shut it," Seifer told him, sharp. Without looking at Roxas, he said, "Who knows? They were here one moment, gone the next. Probably scared." He smirked.

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Of _you_?"

"...Roxas?"

Shit! He spun around, wide-eyed. Hayner and the others didn't look too happy to see him.

_Wait... I don't... Who are these people? ...where am I?_

All at once Roxas felt suddenly _different_ -- free, in control of himself, and at the same time isolated and calmer. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, h, hey guys." God, it was forever ago -- where was he supposed to be? Well, he's obviously not there.

Hayner stared at him, his expression taut but unreadable. His gaze flickered between Seifer and Roxas. On noticing him, Seifer called avidly, "Hey, chickenwuss. You didn't come to play, by any chance?" He spread his arms, encouraging, and seemed to ignore Roxas standing between them, like his presence was nothing unusual.

Fury twisted Hayner's face in the instant before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the Sandlot, snapping, "Let's _go_."

"Hayner--" Pence started, but the taller boy didn't hesitate, and with an uneasy glance back at Roxas he followed, Olette equally anxious on his heels.

"Hey-- Wait up!" Roxas called, sparing one last glare at Seifer. He was _not helping_. He had to run to catch up to Hayner's speed-walking, and said breathlessly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Was I-- Did I hold you guys up?" He glanced up at the station tower and almost did a double-take when he saw the time.

Olette tried a weak smile. "You... played with Seifer today?"

"What? Come on! No way. That jerk was just trying to get on my nerves," Roxas said, a little rushed, a little pleading.

Pence finally looked at him, but Hayner was still ignoring him steadfastly.

"Well," Olette said, as if determined to keep conversation going, "where _did_ you go, then?"

After a beat, Roxas glanced down at his sneakers. "Someone wanted me to meet them at the mansion. But I was jumped by some more of those-- the guys that took the picture, remember?"

"Really? What'd they want this time?" Pence said, almost curious.

"As far as I could tell, they wanted a fight." He was definitely not going to give Pence even more conviction that they were after him in particular.

More like herself, Olette frowned and asked, "A fight? Were you hurt?"

All the injuries and pains he'd suffered during the battle with the giant monster were gone; he hadn't noticed until she asked. "No... No, I think I'm okay." That didn't sound very plausible, so he added, "It looks like Seifer's gang got away fine too." There. Witnesses were present.

"What, they got attacked, too?" Pence said, now caught up in the story. "For their photos?"

"Uh, no, the -- thieves didn't seem to be looking for photos this time. Maybe they wanted revenge," he tried, joking a little.

"Revenge? Man, these guys are totally out of hand," Pence said, shaking his head in amazement. "Someone should tell the police!"

"Yeah, someone should." But Roxas wasn't really interested in the police. He was walking beside Hayner now, and the other boy still hadn't said a word, his jaw tight.

After a few beats of silence, Roxas's covert stares became obvious. Hayner said, grudgingly, "Glad you're not hurt."

Well, that was something. Roxas murmured, "I'm really -- really sorry, you guys." He had to stop apologizing, or defending himself lamely. It was all going to look pale in comparison to not getting to go to the _beach_.

And ditching his friends.

Roxas said avidly, "Hey-- how about tomorrow? We can go tomorrow, right?"

Hayner stopped walking completely, his expression shuttered tight again. "...Tomorrow?"

Roxas stumbled to a stop, realizing he had made a terrible error and not sure why. "Yeah-- what? No? No good?"

"...No." Hayner glanced away. "I promised I'd be somewhere tomorrow."

He-- what? Roxas tensed, now outraged in his own turn. These were their last free days before the summer ended. How could Hayner just -- do something _without_ him? They did _everything_ together, as a group. He hadn't been so bad that he deserved to be ostracized.

And none of it was his _fault_.

They had no _idea_ what he'd been through.

But still... they wouldn't meet his eyes.


	8. Day 4: Part 1

**Day 4: **** In Which Struggle Becomes Battle**

* * *

For the first time in what felt like forever, Roxas woke slowly. His head didn't hurt, and his body didn't ache, and he deserved it, after the chaos and the distress of yesterday. Reveling in the quiet, he allowed himself the luxury of staring at the ceiling for a few moments before finally pushing himself up and starting to get ready to face the day -- or, afternoon, as the case may be. He'd slept in a little again, Roxas noticed, looking out the window as he stretched lingeringly. Maybe there was something to what Olette had said (what felt like a year ago) about him getting sick.

Although that wasn't the only thing wrong with his view, actually. Roxas frowned at the house across from his. Poor Shione, the wall of her house directly beneath his window was plastered with posters for the upcoming Struggle tournament. He could scarcely see the paneling.

_She's going to be pissed when she gets home,_ he thought, and then squinted at the posters.

Wait. Hayner said... _Crap that's today!_

Roxas dressed and got ready in record time, then raced down to the Sandlot. It had been utterly transformed since last night: there was a large dais in the center, banners and streamers, and there were people crowded to the brim in the usually-empty square. Roxas shoved his way through the throng to the north end of the square, where the other finalists were already breaking apart from the familiar pre-match lecture on the rules -- Seifer returning to the corner where his friends were waiting, Hayner to his, and Vivi (of all people) heading to the side of the ring to wait.

The referee waved him over cheerfully, but Hayner didn't even look at him. Roxas swallowed and started to head over there, only to be blocked by Thom, the ice cream merchant.

"How's my favorite customer doing?" he said cheerfully. "All psyched up for the big match?"

Roxas mustered a small smile. "Yeah, I guess. I haven't had much chance to practice, though." _Or breathe, or think..._

Thom glanced over his shoulder at Hayner, and for a moment Roxas thought he was going to let him go, but then Thom turned back around and said urgently, "Practice is important, you know, Roxas. It's good to have... _practice_, and... _practice_ makes life better. You know?" He paused for emphasis. "Some things are more important than a trophy, Roxas. And _practice_ is one of them."

Roxas stared at him, trying not to look as dubious as he felt. "Okay. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Thom sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, starting to say, "All right, my euphemisms aren't the best--"

Hayner was already at the equipment rack, shrugging on his vest, and Roxas couldn't hear anything Thom was saying because he was thinking, _If I don't get over there while he's still putting on his gear he might try to avoid me._ He ducked around Thom, mumbling an apology vaguely, and headed over to his friend.

Of course, now that they were both there, he had to find something to say. For lack of anything better coming to mind, Roxas said awkwardly, "Hey."

"...yo." Hayner wasn't looking at him, stubbornly dedicated to adding the fuzzy balls to his velcro suit.

Roxas felt a little deflated. It was all his fault, he knew now -- well, not _all_ his fault, he hadn't asked for -- but _he_ was the one who'd forgotten about the Tournament and _he_ was the one who'd chosen to ditch the beach outing. He wasn't very good at apologizing, but, "...'m sorry. About yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Uh, yeah." His vest now thoroughly in place and no more fidgeting with it possible, Roxas began gathering balls from the bin. "I didn't mean to, but-- What happened wasn't fair to you guys. So. I'm sorry."

Hayner straightened and made a dismissive sound, almost a laugh. Roxas turned to him with surprise to see that Hayner was smirking at him. "Are you _still_ worried about that? I went to bed last night and forgot all about that crap." He pointed his Struggle bat at Roxas. "You gotta learn to let these things go."

Roxas stared at him, uncomprehending, for so long that Hayner relaxed his posture and asked suspiciously, "What, do I have food on my face?"

"N, no, you're--" _Retarded or something._ A little desperately, Roxas demanded, "You really don't mind? At all?"

Hayner rubbed the side of his neck a little, as much a giveaway as if he'd admitted it, but then he shoved a few more of the fuzzy balls onto Roxas's back and then turned him around firmly, pushing him towards the ring. "Don't get all mushy on me, okay? We promised we were going to win that trophy, so you can't be mushy."

He propelled the bemused Roxas right up into the ring and followed behind him. Roxas thought to ask, "Did you put those posters up on Shione's house?"

"What?" Hayner flushed, just a tiny bit of color rising in his face, and looked around warily for Shione. "_No_. What do I care if you zone out and forget the most _important day of the year_?" He folded his arms over his chest, somewhat awkwardly around the Struggle balls.

Roxas fought to keep himself from grinning. "Well, thanks anyway."

_Wait, which of us is in the first round?_ He looked around for the whiteboard that showed the tournament tree, and then winced. _Crap, the first match is me and Hayner?_

He hoped the taller boy could take some damage to his pride with as good a humor as he took Roxas forgetting their promise.

"Hmph," said Hayner, and smirked at him. "May the best me win."

Roxas matched the expression with one of his own. "Any you is going to come up short against me," he said blithely.

For just a little while, it was like the last few days had never happened.

* * *

"When did you get so good, Roxas?" Pence asked with a grin.

"I've always been good," Roxas told him. "Hayner just didn't know _how_ good." He had to duck a playful punch for his head, but Hayner was in a remarkably good mood, all things considered.

Olette skipped up with two corndogs in each hand and distributed them proudly. "To our Struggle champions," she said, politic, and they all toasted each other, laughing.

Roxas took a small nibble of his, watching as the last of the preparations for the next match finished up. It wouldn't be long before it was his turn again, probably. He asked idly, "Why do you think Vivi is even _in_ this competition?" It was unpleasant just looking at him; even counting his tall hat, the little boy scarcely came up to Seifer's belt. How he'd made it through the preliminary matches was a mystery.

"Maybe it was Seifer's idea-- Two bites at the apple, right?" Pence suggested.

"So he picked _Vivi_?" Hayner siad, snorting.

He had a point -- Fuu and Rai were both pretty decent Struggle players, easily good enough to place in the preliminaries. Either seemed like a more natural choice than Vivi; he was just a little kid, and Roxas hadn't even known he knew what to _do_ with a Struggle bat until they learned that he was one of the four finalists.

Thom stepped into the ring and cheerfully started to announce the match, waving Seifer and Vivi to step up. Seifer's expression was black -- staring at Vivi, flat-lipped.

"This is going to be brutal," Roxas predicted.

"What could Vivi have done to make him so angry?" Olette murmured.

But they still weren't expecting it when the whistle signaled the start of the match and Seifer hurtled across the ring, raising his bat for a swift and vicious blow. Roxas and Hayner were on their feet in an instant, crying out over Pence's awed exclamation and Olette's gasp, but the startled crowd didn't faze Seifer in the slightest. His features were set, as if determined to end this in one strike -- regardless of what happened to his opponent.

Roxas was riveted to the sight of Seifer bearing down on Vivi (an elementary schooler!) (his _friend_) like a train-wreck, but he couldn't have said exactly how it happened. One moment Seifer was ready to land the decisive blow that would have sent his opponent flying...

The next moment Vivi leapt nimbly into the air, and the Struggle bat in his right hand flung out almost casually. There seemed to be no force behind the blow -- it shouldn't even have bruised Seifer -- but when it connected, Seifer was the one who went flying, crashing to the dais so hard that all the fuzzy balls went flying off his velcro gear. He just laid there for a moment, motionless.

This was met by dead silence, and whole seconds passed before the referee managed to weakly sound the whistle ending the match.

"What the-- What the hell just happened," Hayner said numbly over Thom's weak narration.

"How did he _do_ that," Roxas muttered. He was so positive that they'd have to take Vivi out of the sandlot in a stretcher.

Pence glanced at them sidelong, and suggested, "Maybe he's been _possessed_," much to Olette's amusement.

After the last few days, possession suddenly didn't seem to implausible. Roxas glanced up at Vivi, and found the little boy staring at him beneath the brim of his floppy hat.

The eerie eye contact was broken quickly as Seifer passed in front of them, on his feet again and shaking off his friends and no less grim than he had been at the start of the match. One side of his face was scratched and bleeding.

Roxas and Hayner both backed out of his path quickly, but Seifer didn't stop. As he passed them, he said darkly, "That's not Vivi."

Pence choked on his corndog.

"Kick its ass, Roxas," the older boy commanded, and then headed into the alley without ever pausing in his stride.

_It?_

"What a sore loser," Hayner said under his breath. "He can't take the guy, so he wants _you_ to beat him up?"

It was just like Hayner to be more concerned with Seifer being a jerk than the obviously strange things that were going on here; Roxas said mildly, "I am fighting him next, whether he likes it or not."

Something was going to happen. He could feel it in the air. _This again,_ he thought.

"Be careful, Roxas," Pence said, and Olette nodded, frowning. "Vivi's acting weird -- and he beat Seifer so easily."

"If only beating him weren't part of the promise," Hayner said, slinging an arm around Roxas's shoulder casually.

Roxas was nodding his agreement, and it took him a moment to process that statement and turn to laugh at Hayner. "You'd have me lose on _purpose_ just to spite Seifer, wouldn't you?" As if he'd ever throw a fight; he mimed punching Hayner in the stomach, and the taller boy staggered dramatically.

"You're up again, Roxas," said Thom, looking rather pale. "And, uh--"

"Be careful, I know."

Roxas climbed into the ring and walked out to meet Vivi. The boy looked up at him, gold eyes bright, and giggled -- a high, strange sound that Roxas had never heard from him before. It made his skin crawl a little.

"After Vivi's incredible upset in the last round, I'm sure we're all eager to see what he'll do next!" Thom was saying, rallying the crowd back to their earlier enthusiasm. "Who will emerge victorious, and move on to the title match with Setzer?"

_Who cares about that guy?_ Roxas thought, not lifting his eyes from Vivi. It was hard to believe anyone could think that his match was going to matter in the least.

Thom waited until the crowd was jumping and cheering before he finally cried, "_Let's Struggle!_"

At once Vivi was on him, not content this time to play defensive, and Roxas was barely able to get his Struggle bat up to parry the swing. He staggered, startled by the force behind the apparently effortless swing. Vivi landed nimbly and then hurled himself forward again, swinging not for the vest or the helmet, but rather for Roxas's legs, confirming his growing suspicion that this had nothing, nothing to do with Struggle. Roxas braced himself and swung directly for Vivi's body, knocking the smaller boy back. He yelped as he hit the ground.

_That's not really him,_ Roxas reassured himself, trying to chase away the quick guilt of playing so roughly with someone who was hardly old enough to enter the tournament -- but as Vivi climbed back to his feet, Roxas suddenly realized that he couldn't hear anything but his own breathing. _They don't think--_

But they weren't thinking anything. The crowd was frozen, caught in mid-cheer, not moving or even breathing.

_Just like Pence and Olette yesterday!_

Except that Vivi was still moving, straightening in jerky little motions as if he didn't quite have control of his body. Sensing Roxas's attention, his head tilted up, again that glimpse of gold within the darkness created by his floppy hat, and then in a burst of static Vivi was gone entirely, replaced with one of the strange silvered creatures that had haunted Roxas over the past few days.

"You!" Roxas cried, and then clamped his lips together as the one silvered creature became three -- and then those three became five.

_Crap._ Roxas glanced at the Struggle bat in his hand and shook it hopefully. _Come ooon, keyblade--_

Like magic, it _worked_, a rush of numbers spiraling out and transforming the bat into the now-familiar silver and gold length of the keyblade. Roxas let out a relieved breath and sank into a ready posture, waiting for the first one to rush him.

It came from beyond, lunging and wrapping its long limbs around him, and for a moment he almost panicked, flailing about to try and reach it before his mind took over. Roxas threw himself forward into a tight, acrobatic roll, crushing the creature against his back and feeling its grip on him loosen in response. He sprang free easily while it twisted in pain, just in time for the remaining four to circle in on him, as if planning to make a net of themselves. Roxas swung at their joined hands and darted for the opening, racing past them to the still-dazed creature that had tackled him earlier and finishing it off in a clean strike.

Maybe he was getting good at this; maybe he was just stronger than he'd thought he was a few days ago, but it seemed that he finished them off much quicker now. He slid low to the ground and came up with keyblade already in motion, and finished off two of them before they had recovered from the dizzying move. One of the remaining two immediately lunged for him -- it seemed to simply land on the shaft of the keyblade, as if the keyblade had been meant to bury itself there all along, and then the creature, like the others, vanished in static.

Roxas faced off against the last one, a little shaken. Were they _suicidal_? Monsters couldn't be suicidal, he thought -- they had to be unhealthy or otherwise dying or something before they would do something to deliberately injure themselves.

But they didn't act like monsters. This one was hesitating now, reluctant to come at him, surely knowing that he would win. It was intelligent.

It was making Roxas feel like -- an executioner.

One of them had even spoken to him, once, he remembered suddenly. The fight to defend himself against their relentless attacks had sort of driven that out of his mind. He snapped, "Well?"

The creature quivered uncertainly, but instead of an answer it lunged at him: slow and not terribly vicious, as if it had no other choice.

Roxas gritted his teeth and swung, and in a burst of static, the last of them vanished.


	9. Day 4: Part 2

**Day 4: In Which There are Familiar Strangers**

* * *

Roxas felt his chest loosen slowly, and he straightened expectantly, but there were no more enemies, and the arena did not return to normal. Everything was just -- still. Then from behind him came the sound of someone clapping, sending Roxas spinning on his heel warily. There was a man in a black leather coat, hood up over his face, weaving his way through the crowd.

_Another one?_ Something about him was different, maybe simply that he was more direct. Roxas frowned and waited for him to say something.

"_Very_ nice, Roxas. There's the guy we all know and -- well, _love_ might not be the right word, you know?" The man paused and tilted his head to the side. "...What are you _wearing_?"

Roxas's hand went to his head automatically, with the weird helmet that made his hair stick up in all directions. "It's regulation," he said weakly, and then snapped out of it, glaring. "Are you the guy who stole Olette's wallet?" This time he was prepared -- definitely not going to get caught by surprise and thrown into any portals before he got his answer.

The man stopped walking all at once. "Excuse me? Roxas -- it's _me_." He reached up and pulled the hood back, revealing bright red hair that settled around his shoulders in vivid spikes. "It's Axel."

He seemed expectant, even eager. Roxas's scowl deepened. It wasn't the same guy who had stolen the wallet, then, but he wasn't letting his guard down around anyone he met while _time was stopped_. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

_I guess it is,_ he thought as Axel's expression went blank for a heartbeat before settling into something almost like a smile. "Talk about blank with a capital B. So they were right, you really _don't_ remember..." He tapped his chin with one gloved finger and then said thoughtfully, "I bet this'll jog your memory."

Axel stretched out his hands and with a rush of sound and heat two giant chakrams spun into his hands, sending Roxas stumbling back a reflexive step before catching himself. Those weapons looked _incredibly_ lethal, a far cry from the bladed digits that the silver creatures had used to slice at him.

"We used to do this kinda thing a lot," Axel said casually, waving a chakram. "You liked it then. Let's see if you can still take me."

Then he launched himself forward with alarming speed, one chakram drawn back to strike. Caught off-guard, Roxas leapt back on instinct, bringing his keyblade up to meet and block the chakram. He was _positive_ he'd remember meeting this freak before.

"Nice," Axel said approvingly, with a wide grin. "But you'll have to do better."

Roxas could feel the shift in his weight as he brought the other chakram around, and he realized with a dawning sense of horror that he was at a huge disadvantage, fighting with only the one weapon -- if he blocked one, the other could still tear him apart. He flung himself backwards in an awkward dodge and tucked into a roll, then sprang away the moment he got his feet beneath him, putting some distance between himself and the redheaded man.

_Can't just stay on the defensive,_ Roxas thought, reversing direction and lunging-- but Axel just tangled fingers in Roxas's vest, wincing as the keyblade smashed into his ribs but dragging them both inexorably to the ground. Roxas landed on top of him, but Axel only frowned up at him. "You're off form, that should've hurt a lot more. What did he _do_ to you?"

Roxas shoved himself away and back to his feet. "What are you talking about, no one's done anything to me!"

"_Really._" Axel didn't stand, just sat up and spun one chakram idly, just keeping the spikes from skimming the ground. "Do you know who you really are?"

That off-handed little question sent a chill up Roxas's spine. "That girl-- Namine said something like that too. Who are you?"

"I told you; Axel," he said dismissively. "It's who _you_ are that matters. Roxas -- Number XIII -- the one chosen by the keyblade."

Roxas glanced at the keyblade, feeling kind of betrayed. It was supposed to be his saving grace, not get him in more trouble... He looked at Axel again, more wary. "What are you talking about?"

Axel slung an arm over his knees and smirked up at Roxas, although there was something -- not quite sincere about the expression. "Come back with me. It's not much, but it's home--"

"_Shut up!_" Roxas snapped, bristling instinctively. He gestured angrily with the keyblade. "_This_ is my home!"

"This place?" Axel echoed, getting to his feet slowly. "Are you kidding me? You still haven't figured it out. This town, he--"

Roxas was practically shaking, he was waiting so intensely to hear the rest of that sentence; when Axel trailed off he almost threw the keyblade at the bastard's head in frustration. "_What_? He _what_?"

Axel shrugged. "It's his creation. He made it, to imprison you -- a cage for the tiger." He sounded rather clinically admiring, but his lips were twisted. "And he really did a number on you, too. But I don't have much time -- think I'm starting to wear out my welcome." Axel's expression darkened as he brought up his chakrams. This cold decisiveness was so much more authentic on his features than the smiles and smirks of earlier. "Come with me, Roxas. Now."

Roxas braced himself again. "I don't think so. I'm getting questions answered first." No one in a black coat had ever done anything good for him.

"Well, you can't say I didn't try!" Axel said lightly, and before he even finished speaking he hurled a chakram at Roxas's legs.

Roxas barely had time to startle and leap up, over the spinning blades. _It's like talking to a viper or something--!_ A second followed the first, and then Axel grinned at him from across the ring, unarmed and daring him to strike.

He still wasn't really fighting. Axel was just playing with him, and that -- that annoyed Roxas, somewhere deep and displeased. _Either fight me or don't!_ He hurtled over the chakram, propelling himself forward as he leapt, back curved like some lunging wolf, and the moment he landed he was already running, racing for Axel with intent speed. Axel watched him approach with his lips curving up just slightly, and twisted to the side at the last minute, a chakram reappearing in one hand to swing at Roxas with his greater reach. Without changing momentum Roxas ducked in under his arm, forcing it to the side with his shoulder and taking advantage of the opportunity he'd created to ram the keyblade into the tall man's side.

Axel made a small choked noise as Roxas stepped back -- laughing, Roxas realized suddenly, and glanced down at the keyblade. He had turned the blade around in his hand, striking with the shaft instead of the teeth of the key. Why had he done that? Did he have a death wish or something?

Axel said thickly, "That's more like it."

Roxas's head jerked up, and his lips quirked slightly at the edges. A moment ago he was afraid for his life, and now it almost felt like he was _enjoying_ it. Damnit -- this was so confusing.

"And that smile," Axel continued, straightening. "That's better, too. Not that big idiotic grin you had on earlier."

That wiped it off his face quickly -- _when I was with my friends, of course I was smiling_ -- but Roxas was intent on Axel's movements, waiting for the one that would turn into an attack, and almost idly twirling the keyblade over the back of one hand. He wanted to _win_.

Axel lifted an arm, grinning at him. "This is good, this is good. Maybe this'll jog your memory some more." The chakram vanished from his palm, but only a second later his gloved hand was wreathed in flame, which shot out from his fingertips in a fountain of melting heat.

For only a moment Roxas spared the energy to be stunned, but his arms moved on their own, bringing the keyblade up in front of him and something, some forcefield, deflected the flames, protecting him. But there was no time to consider -- the moment the fire faded away he darted in close again, with fire at his whims and those throwing weapons at his disposal, Axel had the upper hand as long as Roxas stayed at range.

"Ringing any bells yet?" Axel taunted him, but he was bracing himself.

"Shut up and fight," Roxas muttered under his breath, but then right before he came in Axel's arm's reach he dropped low and skidded against the dais in a circle, the same technique that had worked so well in getting him behind those silver creatures, and swung at Axel from behind.

The redhead stumbled and grunted in pain, but he caught Roxas's wrist before he could pull away. His grip was incredibly strong, painful, and there was no give when Roxas tugged reflexively to get loose. "You could take someone's eye out with that, you know."

Roxas glanced up at him, eyebrows raised -- he had absolutely nothing to say to that, so he just stared pointedly for a cool moment. Then he flexed his free hand, and all at once the keyblade vanished from his captive right hand and reappeared in the left in a sudden shimmer of light. He was swinging before he could even register what happened, but somehow Axel still managed to release him and dodge the blow in time.

_I didn't even know I could do that,_ Roxas thought numbly. _But he managed to dodge._

Was there some truth to Axel's claim that he was familiar with Roxas -- that they'd fought before? It should've been impossible, but...

Axel watched him, matching his intensity now at last; he stood warily, shoulders hunched, more like he wanted to defend and watch than attempt to engage him. The redhead started to drawl, "Isn't _that_ interesting," but with startling abruptness he jerked upright. "Shit, here he comes."

The air rippled sharply in the exact spot Axel turned to look at, and another man appeared, dressed in shrouding red and black clothing.

"Roxas," the newcomer said coldly. "Do not listen to this man."

"What?" Roxas said, blank, backing away. He'd only just started to get used to Axel, and now--

"Open your eyes," the stranger urged him. "End this dream!"

Roxas froze, even the breath in his throat stopping. "--dream?"

He almost didn't hear Axel hiss, "Oh, very cute, you bastard. Roxas, don't listen to him-- you're _not_ dreaming! Come back with me!"

The other man's eyes lidded. "Think about it, Roxas. Weren't you in the midst of a tournament? About to become the champion?"

"Shut up!" Axel snarled, with quicksilver speed throwing a chakram at the stranger. It vanished mere inches from his throat, apparently swallowed up by the air in front of him.

DiZ only said softly, "Didn't you make a promise to your friends? To your _best_ friend?"

The words hit Roxas hard, but not as hard as they seemed to hit Axel, who jerked and started to snap something, only to be interrupted by a sudden burst of static. The tall redhead bent at the waist, struggling against the distortion creeping in around the edges.

He'd wanted it so much to be a dream, but this -- Roxas couldn't believe for even a moment that this was how the dream ended, fading out in a burst of static like a TV set lost its signal. He almost felt like he should protest, argue-- even though, wasn't this what he wanted? Axel was the one who had disrupted his life...

"Roxas!" Axel hissed. "Remember who your _real_ best friend is--"

The effort to speak seemed to cost him his resistance, and with a dreadful suddenness, the static enveloped him and then glitched entirely out of existence, leaving behind only silence. Satisfied, the man in the long robes said simply, "I will never give Roxas to the likes of you," and vanished after him.

Roxas found that he was breathing hard. "I'm not," he said to the empty air. "I'm not yours to give away."

But the man did not reappear. Roxas looked around, hopeful, but the town remained frozen, no figure in the crowd moving at all; he was the only sound, the only movement, in the whole world.

The world he knew -- it was so peaceful, so simple. So far away from everything he'd just seen and done. The breath sobbed from his lungs. _How do I go back to that?_ he wondered desperately. _To normal? To happiness?_

"Hayner? Pence... Olette?" Roxas said, almost desperately. _Answer me-- I don't know how to get back!_

The ring and the crowd seemed to waver at the sound of his voice, and all at once a high-pitched noise pierced his skull with almost physical pain. Roxas groaned and staggered back, the keyblade slipping from numb fingers as he clutched at his head. It felt like it was being turned inside-out... He gasped, "Hayner--!" Then, louder, trying to outshout the noise: "Pence! Olette!"

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the searing sound vanished, replaced by raucous cheering and Thom's voice booming, "...winner, Roxas!"

Slowly Roxas uncurled himself, blinking out at the crowd, waving and cheering loudly. Hayner and his friends were already up on the stage, racing across it to tackle him with their enthusiasm. Around Hayner's pounding fist Roxas could see Vivi stumbling to his feet and look around in visible confusion.

"You did it!" Hayner crowed.

"Nothing," Roxas started. "Nothing weird happened during the match, right?"

"Aside from Vivi almost giving you a run for your money..." Hayner said, not really listening. "Now all that's left is to beat Setzer!"

Olette was as excited as any of them, still clinging to Roxas's arm, but she mustered a frown. "Don't underestimate him," she scolded. "He looks p, pretty well-built to me, so--"

Hayner's eyes widened. "What?"

The girl flushed immediately and managed, "Nothing!"

That stirred Roxas briefly from his detachment, and he glanced at Pence briefly in time to exchange an amused look with him.

"Nothing?!"

"_Nothing._"

"Because it _sounded_ like you were checking out the _enemy_!"

It really was a world away, Roxas thought to himself. There was no way that the strange robed man who thought he owned him could exist in this world -- no way there could be someone like Axel, whose quick violence had been so startling and so familiar.


	10. Interlude II: Axel

**Interlude III: Axel**

* * *

There were so many reasons not to go there. He didn't really want to see it in its digital incarnation -- to walk up the same stairs and settle on the same ledge that had no meaning here, to look out over the same view right down to the same goddamned birds in the sky and know that this wasn't _his_, wasn't _theirs_.

It was plenty bad enough just to know _he_ was coming here with his _new_ friends, without actually imagining the faint salty taste on his tongue, and Axel really wasn't one for torturing himself.

He went anyway, at the end of the fourth day, like a dog determined to gnaw on itself, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the even concrete of every step along the way, hating the compulsion and hoping the fresh jolt of pain would at least help him come up with a new plan for tomorrow. They didn't have a lot of time here. He needed to take things up a notch.

But when he cleared the stairs and came out onto the ledge of the fake clock tower, he saw someone he really hadn't been expecting.

_Her_.

Axel paused, and stared.

She was a slim little figure against the setting sun, curled in on herself with her knees tight against her chest and her head pillowed on her arms. So much the frightened little bird he'd left behind that Axel almost wondered if he had taken a wrong turn somewhere and left this unreality behind for the twisting changing corridors of Castle Oblivion.

Of course. Of _course_. He should have known. _They_ should have known. It was so obvious. The program might brainwash him, but alone... alone it would never be enough to merge someone this strong into his Other.

As soon as the thought had occurred to him, Axel wondered -- _had_ they known? When they'd sent him on this assignment, had they known it wouldn't be as easy as jogging the kid's memory?

Fuck.

He gazed at the witch's back. Part of him wanted to shove her off the goddamned tower. If only they'd been in the real world, the fall would've killed her, and then--

--and then, what? Memory was a fragile thing. If this last year had proven anything, it was that once you'd started pulling someone apart, putting them back together wasn't easy. Without a witch to guide the process, that person might even come undone completely.

It _hurt_ to think.

Axel took a step towards her, not trying to be quiet; she didn't stiffen at his approach. Must have been too lost in thought. Dreaming up more pretty, insipid little lies?

He felt his lips twist, the ugly distant cousin of a _smile_. Nothing good could come from this. He was going to lose it, fling himself at her, burn the whole clock tower down. But he couldn't... he couldn't just walk away. "Nice view, huh?"

That seemed to startle the little witch terribly, and Axel took a nasty amount of pleasure in her nervous movements and her sad empty eyes. Then her shoulders slumped in a way that looked like -- what, guilt? -- and she murmured, "I wasn't really looking."

--Interesting. "Well," he began lightly, studying all the taut lines of her, "you wouldn't have, would you? After all, when you make the cage, you get to know the bars." The softest emphasis on all the right words, to remind her of the other cages she's been in. This bastard can't be much nicer than Marluxia to her, if she's still cowering. "Do you think he plans to let _you_ out?"

She whispered, "It doesn't matter. I don't intend to go anywhere until I've finished my work. And then..."

"And then you'll fade away, back into darkness, like a good little Nobody?"

The party line. If anything, she curled in on herself even further, and beneath her steely resignation, Axel thought he caught a glimpse of a helpless little girl struggling not to cry.

It was -- pretty infuriating, really. Axel was helpless. _He_ was helpless. Sora, wherever Sora was -- he was helpless, too. This little witch, on the other hand... she had nothing but power.

"You think he wants that, too?" he asked smoothly, gesturing at the digital town. "Is that what this sick joke of a life is supposed to be? You'll make him hate himself so much that he _wants_ to end it all?"

"_No!_" She was on her feet then, determined or desperate or both. "He won't -- he won't fade away. That's not what this is. He'll be whole. Don't you see...?" Her hands twitched as if to take hold of his, but she forced them still instead, and met his gaze almost hopefully. "This is better. Living like this... it's not worth it."

Axel stared at her, incredulous. "Not worth _what_? Existing? Look, just because we're missing something--"

"Missing a lot," she put in quietly.

"_Whatever_," he snapped. "Yeah, we don't have hearts. Big _fucking_ deal." The language made her eyes go very wide, and he smirked a little in spite of himself. "It's hollow and lonely and all that jazz. But any life is still better than the alternative." Axel raked his hand through his hair and wanted to pull it out in clumps. "_He_ won't be whole, kiddo. _Sora_ will be whole. Sora's the one with missing pieces. _Him,_ he's just... a piece. And once he's apart of Sora... he won't be _him_ anymore."

She pursed her lips and said nothing for a long moment. Then: "Today, there was... an incident. Roxas brought him into contact with Kairi's heart." There had to be something malicious in her use of the name he'd been so diligently avoiding. "He _spoke_ to her. I suppose he's waking up."

"Does this story have a _point_?" If it hadn't been for the gloves, his fingernails would have been slicing into his palms.

The witch had started chewing on her bottom lip. She seemed to be choosing her words very, very carefully. "We don't have hearts," she agreed slowly. "And Roxas is, as you said, just a piece. So I keep wondering... how did he contact her? There shouldn't have been anything there to connect _with_. Shouldn't she have found Sora instead?"

That gave him pause. To his surprise, he found himself almost smiling faintly. "Yeah, well. If you ask me, he's always been a little different." It was as close as he would come to naming the unnamable feeling of _being around Roxas_ for her.

She nodded, but her reply was soft and distant. "Different... I wonder."

What was she thinking?

Axel said, not even quite knowing _why_, "If any Nobody could do it, it'd be him."

"Do what?" the witch asked, still sounding distracted.

"Become _somebody_."

Her shoulders tensed, and he knew she recognized the reference, knew she was thinking _But you said we couldn't do that._ He wasn't sure what he'd say if she actually asked. But all she did was lift her head very slowly, and fix those starved eyes of hers on his face. You'd think he'd promised them all a happy ending.

"Of course," Axel reminded her delicately, "we'll probably never know. Seeing as how you're, you know, _going to destroy him before he has the chance_."

The little witch flinched hard, and turned her eyes away from him. That was probably his cue to go.

He'd made it as far as the door to the stairs when she said it -- so soft and quiet that he thought at first she was only talking to herself.

"Yours wasn't the only promise I made."

The palms of his hands were so hot he knew they'd be smoking soon, but Axel shoved them deep into his pockets and smothered the almost-flame. "I guess it just sucks to be me, then, doesn't it?"

She didn't laugh, which was fair. He hadn't meant it to be funny. "Still," she said, more softly still. "If being a Nobody is really _being_..."

Axel waited there another minute, then two, but she didn't seem inclined to finish her sentence, so he left her to her thoughts. It was the only sensible thing to do, for all sorts of reasons. (DiZ was bound to notice him on the network eventually, and then he'd know they'd talked, and that could only make this already-impossible mission even more difficult.)

But all rationalizations aside, he wasn't sure he'd really _wanted_ to hear the end of her thought anyway.

He was such a fucking coward sometimes.


	11. Day 5: Part 1

**Day 5: In Which The Mansion Thwarts Its Visitors**

* * *

Roxas leapt nimbly over a fallen tree branch and wended his way into the wooded forest, the pounding of his feet muffled against the grass and the earth. Late again, overslept again, longer than usual, so much longer, and he still felt barely human. After the chaos of yesterday, he was probably due for a little rest and relaxation -- Vivi's strange possession, the fight with Axel at the Struggle match, the strange robed man, and after that...

_falling, or else the ground was racing up to meet him, and there was a girl in his mind_

He couldn't remember all that well what had happened after that. It all felt like a blur, but Roxas was confident that he had been exhausted and gone home to go to bed early somewhere in the blur.

The point was that he had gone to the Usual Spot and, unsurprisingly, found nothing but a note, telling him to meet them to (finally) (at Olette's insistence) do their summer homework. They had been investigating Sunset Terrace and then after lunch they would investigate the old mansion hidden behind Market Plaza.

It was considerably past lunch, but he might _just_ make it in time.

Roxas was right to hurry, because as he rushed up to the old building he found Hayner, Pence, and Olette already assembled in front of the gates.

"You guys!" he said breathlessly, skidding to a stop. "I'm here!"

"Oh, great," Hayner huffed, turning around with his arms folded over his chest, but he was grinning. "Now we can't make you do the assignment on your own."

Olette elbowed him in remonstration. "We weren't really going to make you do your own assignment," she assured Roxas. "We were just joking around."

"Thanks," Roxas said, vaguely bemused -- so they were really talking about it? "What's our paper on, now?"

"The Seven Mysteries of Twilight Town," Pence said avidly, for once forgetting to employ his 'spooky' voice. "The others were all fake, but the mansion is the real deal. Lots of people have seen her!"

"Seen who?" Roxas asked, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The gates were locked, just like he remembered, but Pence was armed with a recording device and Hayner with a butterfly net. He had seen more fearsome fishermen.

Hayner looked up at the mansion, his expression distant. "Supposedly there's a girl in that old place, all dressed in white. You can see her in the windows sometimes."

"A _ghost_!"

Roxas felt his heart stop in his chest. A girl all in white? She was no ghost. She was-- Namine, wasn't she? He couldn't shake the sensation that it was Namine. He looked up at the window, expecting to see her drawn features there.

_he was falling off the tower and in the odd calm before his death he could see a girl who looked just like namine, or else namine looked just like_

But he was ignoring Pence's profound narration: "And so they went into the mansion, four intrepid adventure-seekers just trying to do their homework assignment, and the floorboards creaked, and they heard the strangest sounds... And then no one ever heard from them again."

Olette smacked his shoulder and Hayner exclaimed, "Now we _have_ to go in. I can't wait until my mom hears that doing my _homework_ killed me. Think they'd put that in the obituary?"

Roxas murmured, "I think they'd just put 'local students kill themselves on stairs of abandoned house.'"

They glanced at each other awkwardly for a moment, sharing an uncomfortable or nervous moment, and then Hayner shrugged and rolled his shoulders deliberately, staring at the gate. He finally said, "Well, nothing for it," and broke into a quick run, leaping up and grabbing onto one prong of the gate to haul himself up. The moment he was up off the ground, he let go and fell back to earth gracelessly.

There was a brief pause before Roxas could even react, shaking off the malaise to trot over to him and hold out a hand. "Are-- you okay? That was pretty clumsy..." It hadn't even looked real.

"It wasn't clumsy!" the taller boy insisted, rubbing his jaw and wincing. "There's -- some kind of _force field_ or something!"

Pence choked audibly, but Olette said over him, "The fence is electrified?"

Roxas glanced up at the fence. He could've sworn they'd touched it in the past. He'd touched it in the past. Before, when the silver creatures had fought him, maybe. Hadn't he? Suddenly it was hard to remember what had and hadn't happened.

_Didn't I -- fall off the station tower yesterday?_

But no one else seemed to have noticed, seemed to think that his presence here -- his continued _living_ -- was weird at all.

Maybe he was just insane. Maybe if he touched the gate and it was electrified, if he went into this house and saw nothing more ghostly than shifting curtains -- he would know for sure that he was just crazy. That it had all been the product of his imagination.

Olette smacked his hand, and Roxas blinked, looking down at the hand as if he'd only just noticed it. "Don't _touch_ it!" she snapped, scowling at him. "You could get really hurt, Roxas!"

He hadn't even realized he was about to touch it. He felt a little silly, and rubbed his hand, protesting, "Well, we don't know it's electrified. And we have to find _some_ way inside. Maybe only the gate is dangerous, and we could get over from the side...?"

Hayner spit off to the side -- he'd probably bit his tongue in the fall -- but he said grimly, "Let's do it." He moved for the wall again, less reckless this time, and waved Roxas over. "Give me a boost." He grabbed one of the vines that twisted up the bars of the fence, to help climb up.

Roxas approached and paused a beat, looking up the fence. There was nothing intimidating about it, nothing indicating an electric charge or anything out of the ordinary, but... He felt strange. Like something in his _bones_ vibrated the closer he came to the fence. He glanced at Hayner uncertainly, but he only found the other boy glancing back over his shoulder at him impatiently. With a distracted smile, he braced himself and gave Hayner a lift.

The sensation was even stronger the more he straightened, the higher Hayner reached, this buzzing in his head, in his whole body. If Hayner actually got to the top of the fence, if he pulled away, wouldn't he--

"Wait," he said numbly, "I can't--"

"What are you losers up to?"

Hayner spun around, or tried to, nearly kneeing Roxas in the head, and in a matter of seconds they both crashed to the ground, Hayner's wildly waving arms doing nothing to stop him from nearly crushing Roxas's ribs. It was painful, but not so painful that it blocked out Seifer's laughter.

"Weeeell," the tall boy jeered, somewhere behind the roaring in Roxas's ears. "Isn't _this_ romantic? Are we interrupting you boys?"

Pence murmured something peaceable that sounded like encouragement to ignore him while he tried to help the other boys up, but Olette seemed to step right in front of them and said firmly, "We're here to do our _homework_."

"Hey, you guys can report on mud-wrestling if you want," Seifer said blandly. "_We_ were going to investigate the old mansion."

Roxas got to his feet, looking at Seifer and his gang (they were armed with a butterfly net too; was there some common knowledge he didn't know about ghost hunting?) in the beat before Hayner rocketed to Olette's side. "What! No way! _We're_ investigating the mansion! Did you _follow_ us?"

Rai laughed. "Follow _you_ losers? You wish! It was Vivi's idea, ya know." Seifer hissed at him to shut up.

It took a beat for Roxas to make the connection, to really think, _They took homework advice from a ten-year-old?_ and manage not to smirk. He shook his head and said, "Well, back off. We were here first." Mild, and he waited to see if Seifer cared enough to really push it.

Predictably, Seifer rose to the bait, smirking and saying, "Oh, but I think we're the better team--"

"_Excuse_ me, guys," Olette said, shoving Hayner back as he bristled. She eyed Seifer like he might be contagious, but she pushed on: "Can't we -- I mean, is there any reason we can't _all_ do our free project on the mansion? We could even work together on it."

Seifer stared back at her. "And why would we do something like that?"

Her jaw tightened. "Why _wouldn't_ you? It's less work for everyone!"

This time it was Fuu who spoke up, around an armful of construction tools. "MISUNDERSTANDING."

Seifer nodded his apparent complete comprehension. "She's right. Just because we agreed to humor you _once_ doesn't mean we're not still going to kick your asses the rest of the time." He grinned broadly.

"JEEZ!" Hayner snapped, shoving forward again and glaring fiercely at him. "All she said was can't we make nice for once! What's _with_ you, anyway? What's your problem with us?"

Seifer stared back, for once not smirking or smug -- only staring flatly. "Who knows?" he said, almost philosophical. "Just looking at you lamers gets me pissed off."

That was it; Roxas stepped forward as well, calling Seifer's attention to their numbers. "The feeling's mutual. Maybe it's _destiny._"

Seifer laughed shortly. "Destiny? Oooh. Maybe we should be friends after all." He turned to stare into the distance, arms folded. "I'd hate to cooperate with destiny."

Roxas glanced at the others, who seemed confused as well, but Olette said quickly, "Then -- good! Let's... split up the house, then. Maybe you could take the left half, or the upstairs, or something?"

She glanced at Roxas, but he was distracting, thinking, _We're all trying so hard to get into this place... Even Seifer is willing to compromise because he wants to get in here..._ and feeling a little sick. It was Rai who said, "Yeah! We'll take the upstairs. Right, Seifer?"

The older boy shrugged, smirking. "Okay, sure. That's where the ghost is, right? We'll let you guys _know_ if we see her."

Roxas glanced up over his shoulder, ignoring Hayner's indignant demand for the upstairs and Seifer's smug reminder that Olette had suggested it; the second story window had fluttering white drapes, but no girl all in white. Just the wind moving...

Seifer approached the gate, and despite Hayner's whispered encouragement, Olette sighed and held out a hand. "Seifer, don't-- It's electri--"

His hand was already around one iron bar. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, frowning. "What?"

The others looked startled, but no one moreso than Roxas, who found himself hurtling forward, tearing Seifer's hand from the gate; he was shouting, "Don't touch it!" and then his elbow brushed the gate.

He was in a wide room with a rectangular table in the center. The walls were so white that they threatened to blind him, except where the startlingly bright sunlight poured in from the window against one wall to make the rest of the room glow; he put up a hand, wincing, to shield his eyes. The only color in the room came from scattered sketches posted up on the wall, made in crayon.

Roxas took a moment to absorb his surroundings, turning slowly in a circle. How had he gotten here? He shifted over to the window and peered down at the mansion garden. He was on the second floor of the mansion -- in the ghost's room. But the girl he had been expecting to see wasn't there.

He walked slowly around the edges of the room. The pictures... If he looked at them too long he started to recognize the childlike scrawls, figures from his dreams that made his stomach twist unpleasantly. This one had a figure in black with spiky blond hair (me) and a figure in bright colors that he recognized immediately as _Sora_, the boy from his dreams, and he had to tear his gaze away, move quicker, and then he was standing in front of another picture, with the blond in black (me) and another, taller shape with shock-red hair...

"Axel?" he said slowly.

"Yes," said the ghost, from right behind him. It should have, but it didn't even surprise him. It felt like nothing could surprise him anymore. "That one is you and Axel. I had to draw at least one... You _are_ best friends, after all."

Roxas shook his head slowly, reflexive denial. Axel had suggested that too -- best friends. But it didn't mean anything to him. He turned to face her instead, her sad features and hands wrapped around a sketchpad in a tight embrace. "Namine," he said softly, "what's happening to me? Who are you?"

She closed her eyes. "I'm the one who started everything," she said. "Everything that's happened to you is because of me. I'm a witch."

"A _witch_?"

"That's what DiZ calls me." Namine looked back at the sketch that Roxas had fled from only a minute ago. "I have power over Sora's memories, and the memories of those connected to him."

That meant even less to him than assertions that he and his strange assailant from yesterday might be friends. He smiled weakly. "You can't be a very good witch. That's a pretty limited range of abilities."

It was a pitiful, pale attempt at humor, and Namine didn't overplay her response; she smiled back, small and insincere. "To be honest with you... I wish I were a better witch." She turned away and drifted to the far end of the table, sliding into the chair and finally relenting her desperate grip on the sketchbook. "Then none of us would be here."

She had claimed that it was her fault, but he couldn't be angry with her -- not when she seemed so unhappy, and when it hardly made sense to him. He felt so numb. Roxas sat across from her and looked down at his hands, the bands around his fingers. "You said, if I came to the mansion, you'd tell me what I wanted to know."

"I will," Namine assured him, "but I have just one question first."

Roxas shrugged. What did he care if she asked her question? He probably didn't have the answer to it. He didn't have any answers.

But she asked softly, "What did it feel like, yesterday, when you were falling and you saw... _her_?"

"So that wasn't a dream!" he started, but it flooded back to him with such startling immediacy--

_he was falling off the station tower and his friends were reaching out for him, crying out, and then they just seemed to vanish, and he could hear a girl, slim and brunette, and she was reaching out for him too, one of sora's friends from his dreams of someone else's long-ago, but she couldn't remember sora's name, and then the ground rushed up and **sora's voice**_

Roxas put his hands over his eyes, breathing quickly, and it took Namine saying his name hesitantly before he came back to himself. "What... what did it feel like?" he murmured. He thought he knew what she wanted to know. "I was-- so calm, it was weird. Like now. But I didn't feel... like... _him_."

Namine leaned forward, surprised and then intent. "You didn't?"

He shook his head mutedly. It was the one thing he clung to in that horrible moment, when he hadn't known anything, had been so full of confusion and presences from the dreams where he never existed.

He had, at least, been there, and been himself, in that moment.

"...I see," she whispered, and for a moment they sat there like that. Then she seemed to remember her promise, and glanced up at him. "What do you want to know?

Answers-- Roxas said quickly, "_Everything._" He shook his head. "_Who is Sora?_ And DiZ? And Axel? _Why_ is this happening to me?"

The girl hesitated several moments, long fingers caressing the edges of her book, and then she said simply, "You know Sora, much, much better than I do. A year ago... some unfortunate things happened, and Sora was -- incomplete, in many ways. He needed to be whole again, and so I put him to sleep, so that I could rebuild his memories."

Namine looked at him, as if waiting for a response, but he had none to give her. He had no idea what he was talking about. She glanced down again after a beat. "It's taken the whole year, but the chains of his memories are finally starting to come together again. In order for him to be completely whole again... he needs to be with you, Roxas. Because part of him is with you."

"Me?" Roxas echoed, and his fingers curled into fists on the table. "How could that _be_?"

She seemed to have to force herself to say, "You -- _are_ a part of him, Roxas." Namine looked so sad, so unhappy, but the words that came out of her mouth... "The truth is that you're not allowed to exist. Because you were never supposed to exist at all."

Roxas stared at her, blank. He should be angry -- getting to his feet, furious, snapping at her -- but he just felt so cold. "...how can you say something like that? I'm human, right? ...don't I have a right to live? Humans..."

But Namine was so still, and she said softly, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I think maybe he was right -- some things really... shouldn't be said."

The roaring in his head grew louder, and suddenly the light flared, brighter and brighter, until everything was only white, and he thought suddenly, _She's giving up_--

--"What was _that_ for?!"

"Hey, I'm the one who got tackled! How was I supposed to know what the hell he was thinking?"

"He was _thinking_ that he didn't want you getting fried! I mean, I don't know _why_, I'd _pay_ to see it, but he _was_!!"

"It wasn't anything personal," Seifer's voice was saying. Roxas shifted uncomfortably -- he was on his back. On the ground. ...and his face hurt. "They're called _reflexes_. If you had some, maybe you wouldn't suck so hard at Struggle, _chickenwuss_."

"Oh, that's _it_! Bring it on, asshole!" Hayner shouted, and the others cried, "Hayner!" and there were sounds of a scuffle.

It was so tempting to just lie there and not get in the middle of all the shouting, but Roxas shifted, groaning a little. "Can't-- take m' eyes off you guys for a min't."

When he pried his eyes open, he had a momentary glimpse of Pence and Olette hanging onto Hayner's arms, and Rai and Fuu in front of Seifer, bristling with muscle and butterfly nets.

"Roxas!" Pence said with relief, and Olette beamed. Hayner shook them off and moved over to duck down next to Roxas with one last glare at Seifer. "You okay? That son of a bitch hit you pretty hard."

Roxas thought, _He hit me?_ His vision had started before anything like that had happened.

When he glanced over his shoulder at the window, he thought -- he saw a slim figure, standing behind the white curtain.


	12. Interlude III: Axel

**Interlude IV: Axel**

* * *

The dark was still clinging to his clothes in wispy curls from his corridor when the Lancer found him.

_Your presence is requested._

Axel had been tired in oh so many ways, more than ready to stretch out in his own bed for an hour or two and catch a few winks, but those four little words sharpened his senses and straightened his spine.

He wasn't ready for this, damn it. There were so many questions he wanted to ask the old men -- _what the hell_ being at the top of his list -- and he hadn't figured out yet how to phrase them to get the information _and_ keep his half-life.

Before meeting the witch, he'd thought this would be so _easy_, a fucking rescue mission -- that he'd slip in through the digital town's security system, find Roxas, remind him who he really was, and rip his way back out again. He knew Xemnas would be... not impatient, because impatience was way too close to _feeling something_, and Xemnas didn't do that (none of them were _supposed_ to do that), but... _expectant_.

Man, and he'd thought his biggest task would be getting the old man to keep his coat on.

He really, really should have known better.

They were already there, waiting for him, but only two of them. Numbers I and III. Otherwise the meeting room was empty.

It was a bad sign. They all had their little _purposes_ in the Organization, and the top brass were no exception. Xemnas had his grand vision and his goals, didn't like to bother with the nitty-gritty implementation details like _talking_ to subordinates; he left that to his seconds. Xigbar was a little more down-to-earth -- he remembered that there were _degrees_ of failure. If you messed up on a mission and it really wasn't your fault, he was the one who'd mediate for you, make arguments in your favor, try and make sure everyone kept their _heads_ at the end of the day.

And Xaldin, well. He did everything else. The boring work -- the dirty work. The Organization's own little executioner.

First the witch, and now _this_. What the hell was going on here?

"You came back without him."

Axel took care to control his breathing. "Would _you_ go with someone like me?" A smirk, self-deprecating, but still calm. Even, reasoned, spreading his hands helplessly. "He doesn't _remember_ anything, okay? It's not his fault." Not desperate. Not grasping at straws.

They only gazed down at him -- at least, he assumed they were gazing down at him. With the hoods up, it got harder to tell. He'd used that to his advantage before. He didn't like thinking about why they might have been doing it now.

Finally, softly, in that horribly smooth and distant voice of his, Xemnas murmured, "Erase him."

The empty place in his chest seized, went cold, skipped the beats that usually meant nothing. "What?" _Erase him?_ The words echoed senselessly in his head and he had to keep speaking, had to drown them out. "Aren't you being a little hasty?"

He was still looking at Xemnas, but of course the response came from Xaldin. "That was an order. Why the hesitation?" Something in his tone had turned calculating, and Axel could sense the trap, felt the edges of it right before the other man continued lightly, "Your judgment was so swift and merciless the last time we found ourselves betrayed."

Harder to control his breathing now. The implication was like a knife at his throat. Axel wet his lips and snapped, "This is different! He didn't _betray_ us! I just need more time." Fuck, he hoped he wasn't lying.

"If he won't return, then he will face to face the consequences." Xaldin did not move, but the shining length of a deadly lance shimmered into existence at his shoulder. It hovered, rolling gently with his words as if on a billowing current. "If you refuse to carry out these orders... the consequences will be yours to face."

And then the lance was flying through the air, so fast it was only a gleam of light, and half a second too late he realized that it was coming straight at his head--

--but he did not close his eyes, did not flinch, and waited for the dull _choonk_ of metal embedding itself in the white marble of his throne. It came, and he felt the breeze by his ear, on his neck. Tauntingly close.

Even then he could have made a joke out of the whole thing, stretched his mouth into a grin or maybe said something cool like, _Think you missed there,_ or _Watch the hair, old man._

But Xemnas moved, a silken gesture for silence, and Xaldin too went still, dissipating his weapon to make way for a far more effective threat.

The sensation of their boss's power gathering was hard to describe but unmistakable, and Axel felt his mouth go dry as it shivered over him, _into_ him, through him. Oh god. It made every last inch of his nonexistent being crawl, and he could _feel_ the pull, the nothingness in him that responded to the nothingness in the air above them, that wanted to strip away from his bones and _go to it_--

"Okay!" The useless thing was pounding violently in his chest, he couldn't hear his own voice over it, only barely knew what he was saying. "Okay! I got it! I'll do it. I'll do it..."

He had seen past members of the Organization reduced to Dusks. He had seen their bodies twist, and he had heard their garbled, incoherent screams.

Xaldin studied him a moment longer, but seemed satisfied, and then they both vanished, leaving him alone to tremble and shake and slowly recover.

_Fuck,_ he thought with a bitter twist of his lips. _I'm sorry, Roxas._


	13. Day 6: Part 1

**Day 6: ****In Which the End Draws Near**

* * *

The air felt so heavy as Roxas slowly stirred -- it seemed to weigh down on his blood, his bones, his hair, pulling him into the mattress. It took a massive effort to sit up, to swing his legs over the side of the bed. And he moved so, so carefully. His head ached with fullness. Any moment now he half-thought it might spill over. Roxas blinked deliberately several times, trying to clear the Sora from his vision.

The air was so still. The room was nothing but stillness and shadows cast by his belongings against the walls.

_Here again?_

The feeling of being out of place receded a little as he went about his chores, but he couldn't help thinking of Namine's words -- he was a part of Sora. What if that was all he was? Maybe he _was_ out of place.

"No, of course not," he said out loud, firmly. "I belong here." Then he wondered if his parents were still here, what they might think about this, and then he wondered, where were his parents? He hadn't seen them -- not once -- in all this time.

He stood in the empty hallway for a long minute. If he climbed the stairs, he would find their room neat, impeccable, pictures framing the walls and the bed made fussily. And they would be gone. If they had ever been there in the first place.

Roxas told himself softly, "I'm going to be late." And, first one foot and then the other, he headed out the front door.

All his friends were already gathered in the Usual Spot, talking animatedly. He heard their avid conversation as if through a long corridor, strange and muted, even though they were only a few feet away. They didn't turn to greet him as he entered, and Roxas rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward. "Hey," he started, "I know it was my turn to bring ice cream, but I lost my wallet the other day" _falling off the Station Tower_ "so..."

"You're kidding, right?" Hayner said, the skepticism in his voice clear, even though he sounded so muffled. "He did _not_ say that."

Roxas hesitated and then pressed, "Hey, I know your day is ruined, but you can pay for it yourself if you're that desperate."

"I know!" Pence agreed, his grin wide and maybe a bit smug. "I could hardly believe it either! But I swear it's the truth."

"I think you're pulling our legs, Pence," Olette said, giggling.

_No, no way._ Roxas shook his head, numb, and reached out to clap a hand on Hayner's shoulder, but the words died in his throat as his hand passed right through the taller boy, offering no resistance.

"Come on, would I do that?"

"In a second! I think you'd better have some _proof_, man, if you expect us to believe a story like that!"

"I can _show_ you!"

The three of them turned and rushed past -- through -- Roxas, straight for the exit, with no sign that they saw him, or that they were worried about his lateness, or that he had ever existed. Roxas stood there, feeling the air hanging heavy and Sora's dreams sloshing around in his head, and... numb. Perhaps he was still asleep. Having a nightmare. It would suck, but he... at least this wouldn't be happening.

There was a strange burst of sound, startlingly loud static after the muted conversation of before, and then a familiar voice said just, "Hey."

Roxas stiffened. Axel. But he didn't turn around. Something was building in his head, some pressure, and it was actively painful to try and think of all the things he should say, the things he should do, the things he should feel... His vision was blurring, and he couldn't even tell if it was from the headache or from tears. _Axel_ could see him.

The redhead paced around him and ducked down to look him in the eye. "I _said_--" Then he stopped, staring, and seemed to get a little flustered. "Here, I kinda brought you something." The tall man shoved a bag into Roxas's arms, and reflexes made him grab it, even as numb as he was. He glanced down at it. "Eat!"

Slowly, he opened the bag -- there were flavored dumplings inside. Roxas gazed at them, trying to think of when was the last time he'd eaten. He... he should be starving, but even that basic fact of life seemed to have escaped his grasp. He wasn't hungry. But how could he be hungry -- everything that had held his life together had fallen apart.

Roxas glanced up at Axel, who was watching him with... pity. "You okay?"

"Why are you here?" Roxas said stiffly, avoiding his gaze. He hoped it was Axel's fault. Hoped it was something he could _do_ something about.

Axel shrugged a little with a small, rueful smile. "Last ditch effort, I guess." He snatched a dumpling from the bag. "I've got these icky orders to erase you if you don't come back with me..."

That managed to surprise him somewhat, in spite of his pessimistic expectations -- Roxas stiffened briefly. "You mean, to kill me. Right?" He was almost not sure if that would be a bad thing, after what had happened to his life.

"Yeah," Axel said, staring at the dumpling dejectedly. "But I don't wanna."

Why he would care one way or another, Roxas couldn't begin to understand; but Axel had implied it, hadn't he, and Namine had outright said it. _I had to draw at least one..._

Slowly, he said, "We're best friends, aren't we?" It's half an explanation, half just trying it on. Maybe if it's true... This could replace what he had, in some way. Or he could try.

Axel half-jumped, saying quickly, "You-- You remember that?" Roxas stared at him; those green eyes were wide and excited. Then the redhead seemed to pull himself together. "Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Man, and I was getting all worked up over this, too. So you remember now, really? You know who you are?"

Roxas shook his head a little, awkward. Stupid to think -- it just wasn't the same. Axel didn't fit into his life like... like they did, Hayner and Pence and Olette. "I didn't say that."

Axel paused, and they stared at each other, confused and disappointed.

"Am I," Roxas asked softly, "_not allowed_ to exist?" He just kept thinking about that sad, almost reluctant confession. If anyone could answer that objectively, maybe it would be--

But Axel laughed sharply. "What? _That's_ what you ask me? After all this time _apart_?" He shook his head, hard, and the amusement died as if it had never been. "But I guess that kills the nice little illusion that you remembered who I was."

A bizarre part of Roxas wanted to apologize, even though he couldn't imagine any of this was his fault. They were both so -- incredibly reluctant to keep moving forward.

Axel tossed aside his dumpling, and murmured, "It's not too late, you know. You can still come with me."

_So it's going to be a fight after all._ Roxas dropped the bag of dumplings, letting the little packages sprawl out on the floor of the Usual Spot, and as he sank down the keyblade appeared in his hand without his thinking about it, as naturally as if had always been there. There was no point in struggling against the madness that had taken hold of his life -- but he couldn't stop, either. Not as long as it was within his power to struggle.

The appearance of the keyblade transformed Axel; he tensed like an animal and snarled, "You idiot!"

"This is my _life_," Roxas snapped back at him, more anger than he's ever known he possessed welling up suddenly. Who did this bastard think he was? How _dare_ he?

"This? _This?_" Axel flung out an arm, waving at the Usual Spot. "This is your life? Let me tell you something, Roxas: _this isn't real_." A chakram whirled into his hand and spun across the room in a deadly arc, crashing into an end table and causing it to burst in a shower of splintered wood and old photographs.

Roxas felt his eyes widen in horror, and he cried out, "_Stop it,_ what the hell are you doing?!" He threw himself at Axel, swinging the keyblade at his head with lethal speed, but the other chakram was there, blocking it and wrestling his wild strike down almost effortlessly.

"It's not _real_, Roxas!" the redhead hissed. "This is a _program_ -- DiZ made all of it up!"

"Shut up!" He was so angry he couldn't even see, couldn't think, there were tears in his eyes again and he didn't want Axel to see them. He twisted away and shoved the taller man back, then turned to the broken end table and gently knelt to pick up a photograph: this one, when they all went to the beach that one summer--

But he wasn't in it. Hayner was standing by himself. But that wasn't right, Hayner was leaning on him in this picture, and Pence was laughing because Roxas had just dropped his ice cream, but -- Roxas wasn't in this picture.

_His memories weren't real._

"I know it's not pretty. Heh, I've got more an idea of what this must be like than you'd think," Axel was saying, from behind him. "But this isn't you. Try to remember that, right?"

Roxas said numbly, "Shut up." His fingers tightened around the keyblade, on the photo, crumpling it. He couldn't look at it anymore. It was a lie. Everything was. There was nothing real in his life. He spun around and glared fiercely at Axel, raising the keyblade.

Axel was responsible, too. If he wasn't involved in creating the lies -- at least he was part of the breaking of them. And someone was going to fucking pay for this.

"You're Roxas," Axel insisted, not moving. "Number XIII. Remember? The one chosen by the keyblade. You're _so much more_ than some -- little boy!"

"_Shut up!_ This was the only thing I _had_." He had to choke back the rest of the words, the furious and despairing tirade that threatened to spill out over his tongue.

Axel's features went slack and expressionless. "No. It wasn't." Both chakrams were in his hands again, and his lips curled around the low, intent words: "You'd better not regret this."

The wiry man flung his whole body, flung _himself_ at Roxas like a feral creature, and Roxas braced himself in an instant, prepared to block the attack that never landed. When the brutal collide didn't jar him from his pose, Roxas glanced up.

Axel was motionless, frozen mid-swing, not even breathing. Not a single hair moved as Roxas approached him, circled him in confusion. "He's... stopped."

But more than just Axel had stopped; everything had. There was no breeze, no movements from the photographs on the ground. It was as if the whole world had been paused, except for Roxas.

There was a loud sound that sent him spinning out of pure survival instinct, some invisible intercom crackling to life, and then a voice boomed, "Roxas, you must come to the mansion now. Hurry!"

And then there was silence again, achingly loud silence. Roxas looked around, feeling deflated, drained and tired. He couldn't help feeling like some closure had been stolen from him -- his anger draining away into incongruous disappointment. He'd wanted the fight. The fleeting moment of triumph or the ending of it all. But even that...

"At least it's almost over," he told himself dully.

He hoped -- with the same instinct that kept the keyblade in his hand, that made it answer his call when he needed to fight -- that there would still be something left of him when it was done.

* * *

When Namine arrived in the Usual Spot, she found Axel unmoving, as if still frozen, but bent with something like despair. A pair of Assassins circled in the air around him, listening as he said, "I guess... that's it, then. Heh. I get it now. The Roxas I knew--"

Then all three of them seemed to stiffen at once, turning around as Namine took a step forward. "Axel," she said urgently, and then flinched back, clutching at her notebook, as he lifted a chakram to attack her. "That won't help him, Axel."

"Oh yeah?"

He hadn't attacked her yet -- she was only a digital projection, of course, and it wouldn't so much as hurt, but it was _something_ that he hadn't attacked her yet, probably especially knowing that there would be no consequences for it. Namine licked her lips and said softly, "You need to stay together right now. This could be your last chance..."

"What, to _kill him_?" he snarled. "He's made it _quite clear_ he'd rather let that son of a bitch break him down than come back with me." He hurled a chakram into the wall. "He'd rather have _this_, cling to his comforting lies!"

"He'll remember," she told him. "I gave him back the memories."

Axel laughed thinly, his tall body curving forward again miserably. It was such a convincing display of unhappiness, she couldn't help thinking. So much more emotion than she'd ever seen from DiZ. "Right, sure you did. He knows we're _supposed_ to be friends, but it didn't mean a damn thing to him."

But she knew her work, better than anyone -- the one thing no one else could control. Namine said confidently, "The memories are there. Layered... under all the memories of Sora, and the memories of his life here. Deep down where he doesn't know he remembers them. But I gave them back to him."

Axel looked up at her, slowly, his features drawn but perhaps with some spark of awareness, finally. "...why would you do that, little witch?"

She glanced away, not wanting to let him see the weakness that he had been trying to dig deeper into her all along. "I couldn't let it end like this. If existence really is better than nothing... his real memories must be better than what he only _thought_ he had."

Axel was starting to straighten slightly. "Yes," he agreed, eyes narrowed. "But isn't that going against what your puppetmaster wants?"

Namine was not about to tell him, but even though DiZ had been correct about what Sora needed to become whole again, she had no faith that he was interested in a solution that didn't require the obliteration of all Nobodies. And surely that attitude was wrong.

"If Roxas had a heart," she murmured, "do you think he would he still be himself? The... 'Roxas that you knew'?"

"Of course," Axel responded instantly. "Why wouldn't he be?"

Namine tightened her lips, and she didn't say anything for a long minute. She would be betraying DiZ, but more importantly, she would be betraying Riku and Sora. Axel was no friend of hers, not like they were, and he might never thank her or think of her as anything more than a witch who had almost ruined everything. But... There was a bond between herself and Roxas, a kinship that went far deeper than what she felt for Riku, or even Sora -- ingrained so deep from the moment of her creation that maybe nothing could separate their fates.

And if she could save him, then maybe...

"Axel," she said finally, "I have an idea."

He searched her expression with those eerie green eyes, and then he smiled -- perhaps not the most convincing smile, but a smile nonetheless -- and asked, "What did you have in mind?"


	14. Day 6: Part 2

**Day 6: In Which an End is a Beginning**

* * *

The old mansion was dark and covered in dust on the inside, seemingly long abandoned and still, but somehow the silver creatures appeared to melt out of the shadows to attack Roxas. The truth was that they were hardly even slowing him down; he didn't know where he was going. He found himself in a sitting room, in a dining room, heading up the stairs, aimlessly drifting. Survival instincts kept him fighting, but it was ages before he could think, and when he did -- when he turned around and surveyed the top floor, and his eyes settled on one particular door -- he thought, _Namine._

There was still a chance that someone could answer his questions, even if the girl had been as lost as she looked. He glanced around and started to move towards the door that should lead to her room. Would it be empty, or dark and dusty like everything else, proving even his visions of her just another lie?

As he rounded the corner, two more slim white figures manifested out of nothing, undulating in place, and a third creature rose up behind them -- one he'd never seen before, a large, sinuous thing with what seemed to be wings instead of arms, long limbs with razor-blades jutting out like feathers.

Roxas sank into a ready position, watching the newcomer warily. "What _is_ this thing?" he murmured to himself, and then it startled him by sliding straight through the floorboards, heading for him with only its limbs visible, like some menacing -- _floor shark_. It quickly became less amusing as it slashed at him with swift, vicious strokes from its vantage points, forcing him to stumble back almost against the wall to avoid it.

"I don't have time for this," he muttered, eyes narrowing. He was on some sort of timer, he couldn't... wait any longer. He darted around the bladed creature and struck at the two silver beings, swinging around them and dispatching them in two quick, easy strokes.

A nervous glance behind him found the bladed creature gone -- the corridor suspiciously empty and still. It couldn't be dead, he hadn't even hit it, but it was gone. Roxas hesitated only a beat, glancing back at the door, and then he darted for Namine's room, running as fast as he could manage. Just when he thought he was in the clear, a blade launched up from the floor and tore into his side, causing him to gasp and stumble, but his hand wrapped around the doorknob and he flung himself into the white room.

And suddenly, everything seemed to stop. The silver creature curled into a loop in the air, as if thwarted by the doorway, and then vanished in a soundless bit of static. Roxas touched his side gingerly to see how bad the damage was, but there was no blood. It hurt, every breath in and out making sharp pain arc through him, but he wasn't bleeding.

_It's not real..._

Namine was not there. Restless, he circled the room, but there were no attacks coming either. He looked at the pictures lining the walls, deliberately, putting the pain and the surreal moment behind him. One image featured a blond figure that he knew was himself, striding down a dark blue and purple corridor... Something about it caught his eye.

He stared at it, hard, trying to dissect its strange familiarity, until it felt like his head was about to split, something -- something -- so close...

_"You're really leaving?" comes Axel's voice, but not surprising him; he knows Axel is there before he speaks, knew he was there when his arrival was only a possibility darkening the pitch black night. He's always on guard, always paying attention. That's the only way to survive._

_"I have to know," he says coolly, not bothering to look back. "The keyblade must've chosen me for a reason."_

_Axel threatens, desperately, "They'll kill you if you leave!" and warns, just as desperately, "The boss doesn't like traitors!"_

_He laughs shortly, but it feels like nothing. "What would it mean if they killed me?" he says, dismissive. "No one would even miss me."_

_"That's not true!" Axel says, starting to make a sharp gesture and then stopping. "...I would."_

_The words are quiet, like a confession, drowned out by the rain. Nonsense words. Roxas flips his hood up over his damp hair and he does not stop walking._

"Roxas."

He sucked in a strangled breath and spun around. Namine was sitting at the table again, just like before, watching him with a strange intensity -- as if more confident, now, as if waiting for the inevitable to happen. She didn't seem surprised by his... episode.

"Is that why?" he managed. "Because I was with Axel's group... because they were bad people?"

"No, Roxas," she said softly. "They're not bad -- they're just. Incomplete people, who will do anything to be whole again. Other people hate and fear them, but you... you're different."

"_Why?_"

"Because--"

And then her words warped in the air, the sound and the image of her breaking up like poor reception on an old TV set; she dissolved once, then twice, into static -- and vanished.

"No!" he said sharply, stepping forward. His hands closed on air. Damn -- his _answers_! He had been so close!

A pool of darkness billowed up out of the ground, and he stepped back, startled, as a man clad in shrouding red stepped forward. It was the same man who had interrupted his fight with Axel at the Struggle Tournament, and Roxas felt his eyes narrow, reflexive anger. This man...

"Never mind her, Roxas," the man said coolly. "It is too late to start resisting now."

_Fuck_ this man. He slammed his fist down on the table and snapped, "Hey, I was _talking_ to her. I have the right to have my questions answered!"

"You have the right?" The tall man's lips curled, although Roxas couldn't tell if he was smiling or sneering. "You... have a right to something, is that so?"

"Yes! My whole existence has been a plaything for you people, so I think I deserve some answers!"

He was speaking out of anger, frustration, agitated by this one last chance to really learn what was happening to him being snatched away, but he could never have anticipated the venom with which the man hissed, "_You have no existence_; you were never meant to be. Nobodies like you are only _accidents of circumstance_."

Roxas stared at him, and then recovered enough to demand, "But what does that mean?!"

There was a very abrupt flare of darkness, and when it faded, there was a tall man in a black coat like Axel's, and he said shortly, "DiZ, they've breached the perimeter. I can't hold them off any longer."

"Filthy creatures," muttered the man in red.

Then yet a third portal appeared, and Namine emerged, saying quickly, "Roxas, Nobodies may not be a whole person, but that doesn't mean you _aren't_ a person. The only one who can decide that is you!"

"That's enough!" snarled DiZ, grabbing her arm and wrenching her back. Roxas stepped forward, reaching for the keyblade, but it wouldn't come, and he stared at his hand in confusion.

"Remember that, Roxas!" the blonde girl cried, struggling. "You can be more than just a Nobody!"

DiZ snarled at her and they vanished together, and then a beat later, the tall, shrouded figure seemed to glance at Roxas before following in his quick well of darkness.

The room was empty once more, and Roxas was alone. He closed his eyes, sighing softly, and then rallied himself. He still had to go somewhere -- and he thought he knew where. It called out to him, like it held some key to the questions he was still seeking to answer. He pounded out into the hallway and this time no creatures appeared to attack him.

Somehow he knew that he was headed for the library, as if he'd _been_ here before; and when he moved into the room he knew to approach the table with Namine's crayons scattered across the topic, and he looked down at the drawings and he knew what was missing.

_A riven heart..._  
_An upside-down heart..._  
_...and..._  
_a crown?_

Roxas watched his hand reach for the yellow crayon and draw the missing symbol. (The symbol of soul.) He backed away quickly as the floor started to glow, to the edges of the room with stable ground, and then the floor was just -- gone, replaced by open space and stairs leading down into the basement. But as the floor opened up, four strange little white things spawned in a hiss of static -- much smaller than the previous enemies, and oddly shaped, like... feet?

"What the," he murmured, and _now_ the keyblade responded when he held out an arm, shimmering into his hand as the little creatures wobbled towards him, growing in size and shifting in shape. By the time he was ready for them they were swords, hovering in the air and swinging in sharply to attack him.

Bracing himself, Roxas spun low to the ground, using the quick motion trick that had confused the other white ones, getting behind the so that he could strike. They spun about, confused, and left their aggressive shapes. Although he was ready for them to prove resistant to his attacks, the moment the keyblade came into contact with them they squealed and vanished in a shower of sparks.

Two of them were down before the others had even recovered enough to find him. These two cocked their -- heads, damn! they had _heads_ on the misshapen, flat bodies extending behind the feet -- and seemed to be listening before sharpening their posture abruptly. When he darted for them they dodged, tried to work around behind him, one even charged into his back and hurt him before he could strike them.

_That was weird,_ he thought, frowning at them. They hadn't been nearly as tough as the bladed creature, which he had been expecting, but the last two had seemed much... smarter than the first two.

He lifted his gaze to find the bladed creature from before, spinning out of the ceiling and staring at him. He'd swear it was laughing. Roxas scowled at the bratty monster, and said, "_Well?_" but it only circled lazily away, sliding back into the ceiling in a ripple of impossibility.

Like he was falling for that trick twice. Roxas descended the stairs warily, attuned to every sound, every movement that wasn't his own, but nothing happened, and he reached the door to the basement unhindered.

The room beyond was dark, filled with the glow of computer monitors and strange machines, but obviously a room that had only recently been vacated -- there was no dust, no broken furniture. Roxas approached the monitors, frowning and slowly lowering his guard. They were monitoring something, bars and numbers shifting before his eyes, but the machine seemed...

...familiar. Where had he seen it before?

His gaze drifted to the tube next to the machine, and then he remembered -- a rush, but gentle, painless, as a thousand memories came washing back into his mind, slipping over all the questions and filling all the holes. He knew what Nobodies were -- Dusks, the reanimated shell of a strong-willed human who had lost his heart; Creepers, the unfortunate maimed who still refused to give up their mangled bodies; Assassins, the mischievous servants of Number VIII, the Flurry of Dancing Flames, Axel, his best friend.

And he remembered this machine.

Roxas felt his lips curl back. This machine -- this _damn machine_ -- they had thrown him into it and tut-tutted amongst themselves about what a shame it was to have no choice but to shove him into someone else's life, to break him down until he was a good little boy who had never known a day of hardship, could never dream of fighting back against someone trying to forcefeed him Sora's memories, _all those fucking lies_

With a raw sound, he lifted the Kingdom Key and brought it down with crushing force on the bright displays, the humming machinery, _again and again_, anything that looks like it might've been involved in the fabrication of his lies. When the last of the monitors died he drove the keyblade into the heart of the computer and stepped back, panting.

He didn't need it. He knew now that it would come when he called. And more importantly -- he knew that _his_ would come when he wanted them.

But he wasn't done here yet.

Roxas moved into the adjoining rooms, his own footsteps the only sounds in the place. He didn't know what he was looking for. Namine, to take her out of this horrible place with him? DiZ, for a revenge far more satisfying than smashing up a keyboard? Or...

The next room was immaculate, gleaming white capsules lining gleaming white walls. Only two capsules were occupied: a duck in blue, a dog in mismatched armor... Sora's friends, Donald and Goofy, from his dreams. They weren't Roxas's friends, but part of him felt better knowing that DiZ would have no reason to mistreat them when he...

Went home? Roxas paused in the threshold, just long enough to really wonder where he would go and whether or not he would get out at all, and then he resolutely put one foot ahead of the other.

The chamber was blindingly white, and empty except for the single capsule in the center of the room. Sora was in that capsule, sleeping hidden in its petals.

"At last," said DiZ, appearing between them, "the one chosen by the keyblade."

The bastard was smiling. Roxas stiffened slowly. "Who are you talking to?" he asked coolly. "Me? Or Sora."

DiZ chuckled, in a good humor. "To half of Sora, of course. Half of someone who can move freely in the realm of light, and destroy Organization XIII."

Roxas felt his hackles raise still further. DiZ wanted to use Sora to pass _judgment_ on the Organization, but he had no idea what it was like to be hollow -- to ache for something you had lost and could never have again. To be willing to do anything to feel like you could breathe again, when he had never remembered what it felt like in the first place... "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I am... a servant of the world," DiZ said diplomatically. "Which makes you, at best, a tool."

Roxas's jaw tightened. Laughing at him, after everything he'd done. It was pointless, DiZ wasn't here, _no one was here_, but Roxas snarled, "Is that your idea of a _joke_?! Don't start with me!" and then he was hurtling across the white floor, Oathkeeper and Oblivion scissoring through the illusion.

DiZ reappeared behind him, and said slowly, "I'm afraid this is only a data-based projection."

But finally he sounded troubled, something touching beneath his smug facade; startled, perhaps, that Roxas held _his own_ keyblades (were they really?) instead of the toy Kingdom Key that DiZ had given him in this -- this _program_. Maybe he was even afraid. He should be.

Still, even that grimly pleasant idea couldn't lighten Roxas's attitude. He wanted to scream, throw back his head and yell to the domed ceiling until his lungs gave out, but he couldn't -- couldn't give the son of a bitch the satisfaction. "I hate you," he hissed, "so much."

DiZ said agreeably, "You should share some of that hatred with Sora. He's far too nice for his own good."

"No!" Roxas bit off, clutching a hand to his chest. "This is _mine_!" He flung the keyblade at DiZ, wordless rage, but it passed right through him and struck the capsule. DiZ vanished as the capsule began to glow and open, a flower finally come into bloom.

Sora was not impressive, hovering in his sleeping chamber. He was on the short side, like Roxas, but still too big for the childish clothes he was wearing. His hair was rumpled and his features were slack, peaceful in whatever dreams he was having.

_Lucky,_ Roxas thought, the hostility suddenly draining out of him. If only he could be that blissfully ignorant... If only he had so many people working so hard to wake him... If only he could be that content in knowing that his existence was natural, and normal, and complete.

But all he had were false memories, false friends...

A speck of darkness appeared in the midst of the stark white, almost hard to see, and then erupted into a dark corridor. Axel stepped through, expression drawn. "Roxas!"

In spite of himself, Roxas relaxed his grip on the keyblades. He rubbed at his eyes, aching from all the unrelieved light. "...Axel."

"Hey, right in one." A thin smile turned up the edges of Axel's lips, not nearly as convincing as usual. "Do you really remember this time?"

"I guess. No, I-- I remember." He might not be sure what to say, after all that he had said and done, but it was true. He remembered everything -- dozens, maybe hundreds of missions, loitering by Memory's Skyscraper with their servants for company, and eating ice cream on the Station Tower...

_Those memories weren't really lies, then._

Axel let out a slow breath, and grinned at him, a bit more confidently. "So you know you can trust me, right?"

"Do I?" Roxas said, bemused in spite of himself. Maybe even fond. "I said I _remember_."

Axel smirked. "Okay, stupid thing to say. But you've _got_ to trust me. We don't have a lot of time. I rigged the bot that was monitoring his program, he can't see what's going on in here, but I don't know how long it'll last."

_He makes it sound like there's a plan,_ Roxas thought, impressed. "Okay. So... what do we do?"

Axel sighed. "I'd _like_ to just take you back right now. But..." As if someone had convinced him otherwise. Roxas frowned, now dubious. "This is where you make your big choice. What's it gonna be, Roxas?"

Roxas scowled slightly. "What do you mean? What choice?"

"You can exist, or..." Axel shrugged, but his eyes were flat and narrow as he looked over at Sora.

Roxas considered that, considered everything that had just happened. All the lies, all the frustrations, all the disappointments and anxieties and emptiness could just go away, if he could let go.

But if he had been willing to let go, he would never have existed in the first place. Nobodies were what happened when someone's spirit was too strong to just let go.

"Namine said something to me," he said finally. So much of what she had said made sense to him _now_, but this one thing was still strange. "She said I could be more than just a Nobody." Roxas met Axel's eyes. "What did she mean by that?"

"Maybe she meant that if your heart was strong enough, you could become a real boy," Axel said wryly.

It lacked the biting edge that Roxas knew meant he was mocking someone, but Roxas couldn't help thinking that such a ridiculous comment could only be making fun of him. "My heart."

"Yes, yours." Now there was no trace of amusement, Axel's dry tone turning to intensity, encouragement. "All we are is the _will_ to keep being. DiZ knew that, so he tried to break you down, so that when you looked at _him_--" They both glanced over at Sora in the same beat. "--he'd want it more than you. But if you want it badly enough, it can be _your_ heart."

_I already have a heart._ Roxas looked at Sora for a long moment. Did he look like that when he was sleeping, he wondered. It made sense. It would make the broken pieces fit together again. It would be... undeniably... completion. "What would happen to Sora?"

Axel didn't, quite, shrug off the question, but Roxas could read his disinterest in every line of his body. "Not sure. She made it sound like... he'd be okay."

"So it's me or him," Roxas murmured. Sora was so peaceful, but so... still. Maybe like he was more than sleeping. Maybe like he was suspended -- lifeless.

They had picked the wrong Nobody to try to break. "Then I guess my decision's made," Roxas said, more easily than he really felt. He had half-_been_ Sora for so long, in his dreams, when the rest of his existence had been so flimsy and distant and only Sora's memories had been real. "Okay. I just need to ask a favor -- _another_ favor of you."

"Anything," Axel said immediately, and then, "well, you know. If it's not too much trouble. Heh." He smirked, unconvincing.

Roxas felt his lips quirk up, even though the whole situation weighed down on him irrevocably. Liar. "Can you wait for me outside or something? I kind of need to be alone for this."

Axel hesitated, looking at Roxas, then at Sora, and finally allowed reluctantly, "Don't go anywhere without me, okay?" He headed out the threshold into the other chamber, slow, as if waiting for Roxas to call him back, or make some sound of distress that indicated that Axel would need to step in.

He wasn't going to need help, though, he thought. For long minutes Roxas just watched the gleaming white capsule and the sleeping boy. _What happened to you in Castle Oblivion?_ he wondered; that was where his memories ended, sharp and abrupt. _How did this happen?_

But it didn't really matter -- not anymore. It was about to stop mattering, maybe forever. As long as he held onto the one basic foundation of his life, his unlife, his existence.

_I want to keep going._


	15. Interlude IV: Sora

**Interlude IV: Sora**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived on an island.

It was one of several islands, surrounded by the wide blue ocean, and it was his whole world. A small world, perhaps, but a complete world nonetheless. And the boy was happy there. He wanted for nothing.

Then, one day, a girl came to the islands, and the boy realized there were other worlds out there -- worlds that were probably very different from his own. He was curious, of course, but he was still happy with his world.

(_he would have always been happy with his world_)

One of the boy's friends felt differently. The island world had always seemed too small to him, and now, knowing there were other worlds out there, he wanted nothing more than to escape it and visit some of them -- worlds no doubt larger and more interesting than his own.

"Let's go together," he said at last, and the boy hesitated, because he really liked his island home, but he and the girl both agreed to go along, because they were, after all, the best of friends, and wherever one of them went, the others had to follow.

They built a raft together, and planned to set sail, but their escape from the islands was to be something very different.

Although none of them quite knew it, the boy's friend's desperate longing had opened his heart up to darkness, and because his heart was special, it took their whole world with it.

The three friends were separated, and the boy became a hero. Chosen by a mystical weapon known as the Keyblade, he alone was capable of fighting back the darkness, and saving other worlds from the same fate as his home. Although he never stopped thinking about the friends he had left behind, the boy also made new friends, and they worked together to destroy the darkness and bring back all the worlds that had been devoured by it.

For a while it seemed as though the boy's journey might be over, his work done

(_would it ever be done?_)

but although he had been reunited with the girl and knew he could now go back to their island world together, his other friend was still lost, and he was determined not to leave without finding him.

With the help of his new friends, the boy left the girl behind and entered a mysterious castle, where he fell under a terrible spell. Every floor traveled stole more of his memories away, and soon the boy no longer knew quite why he had come. He forgot his friends, forgot all the wonderful things he had done, and for a while he did not even care, because in place of those memories he was gaining new ones -- memories of another girl, a girl more important to him than anything.

Bad people in black tried to stop him from getting to the higher floors. They told him that the forgotten girl was there, that they had taken her prisoner, that she was waiting for him to rescue her, and the boy hated himself for not remembering her sooner. He fought them, the way he had fought against the darkness, but somehow he knew they weren't dark. They felt... like something else.

He reached the top floor of the castle, and he found the forgotten girl. And then he realized the truth.

The forgotten girl had never been one of his friends. Instead, she was a witch, responsible for his lost memories, responsible for creating the new memories he now had of her. She wasn't a bad witch, or a bad person -- she had never wanted to hurt him -- but she had had no choice. And the boy understood this, in the end. He knew to blame the people in black, and not the witch. They had forced her to do these terrible things to him, and in a way, he was still glad to have the false memories. The witch, whatever else she might have been, was so painfully lonely. The boy almost wished his memories were real.

But he still hadn't found his friend, and he needed to remember in order to do that, so when the witch asked him to choose -- keep his memories of her, or regain his memories of them, because he couldn't do both and stay sane -- he chose the memories of them.

Even though it really hurt her.

Even though it made him feel terrible.

_Even though he really wanted to--_

Because he was sure he would still remember her, somewhere deep down, no matter what.

(_he was wrong_)

The witch told him that she would restore all of his old memories, and then she put him into a deep, deep sleep.

For a while he knew nothing, only warmth and comfort. He dreamed sometimes, mostly things that didn't make sense, like a dark place full of buildings so tall they must have been monsters, and people who spoke to them like they knew him (only they didn't). He dreamed of fighting the darkness, but in a strange way -- for pleasure.

He dreamed of doing terrible things, and not caring.

Worlds fell, and he watched, and he helped, and he didn't care.

The boy felt restless during these dreams, shifted in his sleep and made sounds, and the witch, ever-watchful, soothed him with her power. She did not know what he was dreaming about, of course; she wouldn't have thought such a thing possible. (Her kind wasn't worth dreaming about.) But she soothed him all the same.

Eventually a man discovered her work, and though the boy slept, he could sense that there was something wrong. The man was not kind to the witch, and treated her poorly, and tried to force her to rush the process, because he wanted the boy (the hero) for his own purposes. He worked her very hard.

The dreams changed, after that. The boy saw a bright town instead of the dark city, and kids his own age. He dreamed of ice cream, and school days. These dreams were less unsettling than the ones from before, but somehow they only made the boy even more restless. There was something...

(_empty_)

about them.

Then, one day, the boy stopped having any dreams at all.

He had never noticed that he wasn't complete. Sometimes, after all the lights were out in their campsite, he had felt a little strange -- distant, distracted, in a way he shouldn't have been -- but the boy would never have thought to put it quite like that. The morning always came eventually, and he was always able to push the feeling away, concentrating on other, more important things. Because there were always more important things.

But even asleep, even deeply unconscious and faraway from his body, when He entered the white room, the boy knew instantly.

It was hard to describe. Sort of, the boy would decide later, like seeing a familiar building in the distance and running towards it, only realizing when you're much closer that the building in question is your house. Your home.

He was just starting to run when he heard the voice -- His voice.

_No._

No?

The idea was painful.

Actively painful.

He had never known what he was missing, but now that he did -- now that it was there in this room with him, a part of himself within such easy reach -- the boy felt sick at the thought of not reclaiming it. Loneliness so intense would have reminded him of the witch, if he had been able to remember her any longer.

But the voice protested instantly. _I'm not a part of you._

The boy didn't understand. Couldn't understand. But you _are_ a part of me.

Aren't you?

Slowly, distantly, the boy realized that the feeling had changed. He wasn't running towards the house anymore. But they were still coming closer together, somehow. Which was a relief, because he wanted them to be closer.

_No,_ the voice said, and its strength was tremendous. _No, I'm me. And..._

(_and you're me, too_)

Somehow he had become the house, but he didn't care. Staying apart was too hard. It took so much concentration. The idea of letting go -- of being whole again -- was such a relief. It would be nice, wouldn't it?

_Yes. I want that, too._

The boy smiled at the thought, and then he stopped existing.

* * *

Roxas had a silver pendant in his hand. It was in the shape of a crown.

Everything felt different now. The air, the light, felt bright and fresh. As if he, too, had just awoken from a long slumber. He sat down on one of the petals that had previously made up the curved shell of Sora's chamber, and let himself just... relax for a long moment.

After a while, he tucked the pendant away in his pocket. It didn't quite belong to him, but it did, and he wanted to keep it.

Somewhere deep inside, the boy was glad that he did.


	16. Interlude V: Namine

**Interlude V: Namine**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a girl who was imprisoned in a castle.

She dared to hope that a prince would come and rescue her from her imprisonment in the castle, but instead she found a wide assortment of people -- men and women and boys -- who took her by the wrist and hauled her in the direction they wanted her to go. No one ever took her where she wanted to go, or even asked her if there was anywhere she wanted to go, and there was only so much that even a girl who had spent her entire life as a prisoner in a castle could take.

_Whatever else,_ Namine told herself, _at least I chose this path._

Still, she couldn't help backing away nervously as DiZ and Riku stood motionless in front of the monitors where they had just recovered the picture of the capsule room. It was empty -- the capsule open, everyone in it gone. Their silence spoke so much louder than shouting.

"...where did they go?" Riku said after a moment, turning his head to look back at her. His hood was back, and Ansem's features were blank with incomprehension.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured, her arms tightening on her notebook. "They won't be coming back here."

"What?" he said, alarmed, and straightened quickly. "But-- Then I have to bring them back. Roxas--"

Soft and low and menacing, DiZ spoke, "Don't be a fool. That creature... isn't _Roxas_ any longer." The words hung in the air for a moment, and then he shoved himself to his feet. "The _Nobody_ has become a _somebody_," he snarled. "All of our theories were useless! Why did we waste our lives? Why did I ever try to do anything with Sora?" He slammed a fist into the wall, hard enough to crack it. "He was an anomaly to begin with--!"

"Became-- a somebody?" Riku echoed, lost. "Sora's--"

"Quite gone, yes," DiZ said, and then swept on, as if he didn't see Riku's heart break, didn't care. Namine curled her fingers tighter into the notebook, thought, _I'm sorry, I know it hurts, I know it's hard..._ "How could a Nobody face his counterpart and merge so wrongly? It's against the natural order of things. That buffoon couldn't have changed things that much, his presence may have strengthened Roxas's resolve, but without the assistance of someone with access to Sora, he--"

Namine was so focused on Riku, on his labored breathing and almost tangible denial, on her own regret, that it took her a moment to realize that DiZ had stopped speaking, and that his cold eyes were on her.

"Someone like a witch," DiZ said finally, and then he surged across the room, his fingers clamping tightly on her shoulders and squeezing hard enough to bruise her. "_What did you do to my program, you little nothing!_"

She gasped and dropped her notebook, shoving at him with both hands, but he was so much bigger and stronger than she was, he hardly seemed to notice her struggling. "Your program was _wrong_!" she cried.

"My program was necessary!" he hissed, shaking her hard enough to make her head snap back. "That abomination will never be able to wield the Keyblade of Light! How many worlds have you--"

Riku put an arm on DiZ's shoulder and shoved him away, then stepped between them. All he said was a terse, "Don't call him that."

Namine wrapped her arms around herself and desperately said, "The Organization is already falling to pieces! It will destroy itself if you would just be more patient!"

"Will it now?" DiZ sneered. "And if a thousand more hearts are lost before that happens, I suppose that doesn't concern _you_ in the least."

"Oh, please," Riku said, jerking one arm in a dismissive gesture. "This isn't about protecting innocent people. If you cared about that at all, you would never have brought either of them into this."

DiZ's eyes widened beneath the bandages, and he stared at Riku with something bordering on incredulity. "You defend these...? Haven't you been _listening_? Don't you realize _what that witch did_?"

There was a moment of silence, and Namine took a slow step away from Riku as he turned halfway around to look at her. "Namine...?" he said, so soft.

She licked her lips, struggling against some -- some strange and painful thing in her chest, stinging her eyes. Tears she'd only once shed before. "I couldn't let it happen this way," she whispered. "I wanted-- I wanted them _both_ to be happy, Riku."

"Oh, and a fine job she did of it, too. I expect that monstrosity will even remember you, eventually, although of course he can't _care_--"

"Shut up," Riku told the older man, too quiet and contained to be anything but an order.

Namine ignored him, pressing on desperately. If Riku could just believe her, if he would agree, even a little... "It wasn't easy. I had to think about it for a long time. But -- you knew it too, didn't you? Sora wouldn't have wanted what we were doing. He would've hated it -- knowing that saving him meant destroying someone else."

Riku was still, hardly more than breathing. "...Sora never wants what's good for him."

"But you would've helped him anyway, if he'd asked, right?" Namine wet her lips again, fighting the misery that was so strong in this room. "I -- I would have. That's how I had to decide. And I think it was the right choice! Because, I -- I can still feel Sora, Riku."

She had clung to that warm presence for so long... a light like a beacon in the unending dark future that she saw ahead of her, always beside her, even though the boy himself was asleep and couldn't possibly remember or care for her. She only had to let go of her pitiful excuse for a life and he was there, waiting for her. And even now, if she let go -- not as warm or as close, but he was there, bright, a life that had touched hers in a way that could never, ever be undone.

Riku had never been able to let go enough to reach out and find Sora in the universe, and so she could only hope that he would believe her, but he stepped back, shaking his head. "How could you-- How could you do this?" he said, features torn.

DiZ moved close to laid a hand on his shoulder, saying sympathetically, "Haven't I said it all along? You can't expect humanity from her--"

But Riku smacked the hand away and stepped back from him, too, Ansem's lips twisting. "And _you_, stay the hell away from me."

"I was trying to help you!"

"You were helping _yourself_."

" 'And never the two shall meet?' Don't be a fool."

"Believe me. I won't be anymore." Riku laughed, bitterly, and his gaze flicked at Namine.

Namine felt herself flushed, unusually hot, but she could only meet Riku's strange orange gaze for a single beat before finding herself looking away. "He's not wrong. Maybe I'm not fit to judge. But... I am very, very sorry."

Riku was still, but he -- maybe nodded, a little, and for a moment she felt herself relax before DiZ shrugged and said, pointedly to Riku, "Then perhaps she can still fix it. It might require ripping that _thing_ apart, but she could clean up her little mess."

For a fleeting moment, Riku looked hopeful, before horror chased it from his face, and Namine stepped back -- even Riku had wanted it, for a moment, and that was more than enough to alarm her. She shook her head numbly. "How many times do I have to do this...? Have you learned nothing?"

"Could you do it?" Riku whispered. "Could you put him back?"

"Of course she could, but why would she want to? She--"

"I wasn't _talking_ to you," Riku snapped, but hardly loud enough to be heard. Still, DiZ fell silent, eyes narrowed.

She wished she had better news to give him, some way to soften the blow. She wished that it hadn't had to _be_ this way, that she had stopped this madness before it was too late to turn back, too late to avoid the inevitable collision they had engineered. She shook her head again, gently. "People aren't toys," she murmured. "They can't be taken apart and put back together over and over. Sora might not have recovered a second time if Roxas hadn't been there to lend him his strength." As much as she hated to acknowledge that idea... she had struggled for months to put Sora back together on her own, and in a matter of days DiZ's idea to use Roxas had dwarfed her efforts.

"Even if you could defeat Roxas and Axel," she said, "and even if you could separate Sora from him... No one is strong enough to bear that. Sora would break apart."

_There's no going back this time._

Riku was still, blinking quickly, but there were no tears in his eyes. Namine twisted her hands together, not daring to hope anymore. Finally he said, "What about Kairi? You're supposed to be part of her. Don't you want to be whole, too? Vanish inside of her forever? Or, hey. We could go ask her!" He was getting agitated again. "Maybe she'll be so sympathetic she'll let you take her body and her heart, too."

Namine stepped back a little from his vehemence, but she managed not to flinch -- even mustered a small smile. "What would I do, if I had her heart? I... I wasn't meant to be remembered."

"Oh, I see. It's all about having people who care about you. So, you can't take Kairi's life, because you don't have anyone like that, so you matter less than her. I guess that would make sense, if Sora didn't have anyone to miss _him_."

She couldn't look at him, couldn't think -- of course people would miss Sora. Everyone he had ever met, ever touched... But she said in a hushed voice, "Whatever anyone says about Nobodies, I think that if Roxas had been taken into Sora, it would be Axel here, saying these same exact things."

There was a brief pause, and she saw her sketchbook a small distance away on the ground, and ducked to pick it up again. All the crayon drawings of Sora, the little boy who had given everything of himself, who had unknowingly created life when he thought he was sacrificing his because a friend needed him to...

"I had to make a choice," she whispered. "I thought... Sora would forgive him. ...and me."

Riku's expression tightened, and he glanced aside. They both knew it was true.

DiZ stepped forward as the tension abated, gesturing angrily. "You think his _illusions_ compare?" he demanded.

"If you think you're hurt, aren't you hurt?" Riku said, toneless. "What's the difference, really."

Even though he was obviously speaking only to Riku, Namine said, "Those 'illusions' were enough to drive him to ruin your plans."

DiZ turned on her, snarling again, using all his anger with her the way he couldn't with Riku. "And _you_. That man, he may be doing it for the sheer _fun_ of it. But you were supposed to know better!" He barely kept himself from reaching for her. "That boy had no right to exist. He was living on borrowed time, and now -- now it's _stolen_ time."

There was that heat again, and Namine faced him, her back straightening. "You thought I would let you control me," she said, steadily. "You thought you could control him, too. But maybe we're not as meaningless as you thought."

Both of them straightened as if struck, and DiZ stared at her for a furious moment before he snapped, "And Sora? Sora is meaningless?"

"No!" she said immediately, and then, not quite as confidently, "Sora gives us all meaning -- something to believe in. ...even if he isn't here."

Riku was not looking at either of them, turned away, but he said to the air, "What if... I need him to be here?"

"Riku--" Namine's fingers tightened on the sketchbook, her priceless, irreplaceable memories of Sora. "You asked Roxas if he could feel Sora. He can, now. And I can feel him. And... I think you could, too, if you would just learn how to look."

The air was still, dust and darkness swirling around them. She waited, interminably, for him to make some sort of response, turn on her again or finally relent. Slowly Riku nodded, and some of the misery between them eased, if only -- if only a little.

DiZ reacted immediately, saying fiercely, "You're not listening to this nonsense, are you?"

"Nonsense?" Riku echoed, turning to look at him, and the tension was gone from his face, banished, at least for now.

They stared at one another, and then faster than Namine could react DiZ lunged for her, all but roaring his frustration. Riku was quicker, leaping between them and holding out the Soul-Eater, leveling it at DiZ's throat. He said over his shoulder, "Run."

"I'm sorry," she said, one last breath as the dark corridor welled up behind her. "But -- don't give up. Find your light. It still exists!"

And then she was gone from the mansion, walking her own path, running, even if she didn't know where it would lead, or if she would ever find her way out of the darkness.

* * *

...And that concludes the prologue to Another Side, Another Story. To read more about Roxas's adventures as a Somebody, check out our website:

anotherside . never-wake-up . net


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